


what you do to me, no one knows

by deadratz



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Hannibal Lecter, Bottom Will Graham, Caring Hannibal Lecter, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Drunk Will Graham, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Hannibal Lecter has a tramp stamp, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, M/M, Murder, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Will Graham, Riding, Season 1, Secret Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Sugar Daddy Hannibal Lecter (if you squint), Top Hannibal Lecter, Top Will Graham, Will Finds Out, Will Graham Has Encephalitis, and with happy in between, but he gets treated for it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:35:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 141,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28543404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadratz/pseuds/deadratz
Summary: Hannibal and Will start dating in Minnesota while there with Alana and Abigail. They decide to keep their relationship a secret for the time being, knowing that making it public will do them more harm than good. The people around them catch on after a while because Hannibal and Will are not subtle.Will has to learn how to be in love with a serial killer and Hannibal has to learn how to be more human. Neither comes without its challenges.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 495
Kudos: 797





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I know. "But Grim! I thought you didnt have motivation to write! How can you put Mall Cop and Tragic on pause, then write three one shots and post a 9000 word first chapter of a secret dating fic?" And to that, I say, "Just go with it." I have no excuse for this, but I just had this idea. And this first chapter isn't even part of the initial idea that I had, it's mostly just build up to see how the relationship develops so. Get excited. This one might be kind of long. We'll see. 
> 
> Summary and tags are not in their final stages. If anyone wants to help me with specific tags for this fic, let me know. Tagging is the bane of my existence. 
> 
> Not beta-read. All mistakes are my own, and I'm sure there's a few. 
> 
> I've been listening to No One Knows by Queens of the Stone Age on repeat for days thinking about how it's a Hannigram song and then it took me an hour searching for lyrics I could use as a title for this fic, when this song was right under my nose the entire time.

Hannibal leaves his hotel room late. Nearly 2 in the morning, and he’s sure that no one is going to see him leave. Of course, he can’t be so lucky. He _was_ going to kill Marissa Schurr tonight, Abigail’s friend who was swearing at her mother. Teach her a lesson, blame it on Nicholas Boyle. 

That plan is halted by the sound of another door in the hall opening just as he’s quietly shutting his own. Hannibal looks up from the door handle and sees Will Graham leaving his own hotel room. 

Both men freeze and look at each other, Will frozen like a deer in the headlights. Hannibal gives Will a once over. He’s fully dressed, shoes and all, a jacket on, though certainly not actually warm enough for the Minnesota fall air. 

Hannibal is very glad he dropped off his supplies at a somewhat neutral location before today because if he’d been caught with everything, Will would arrest him. 

“Good evening, Doctor Lecter,” Will says after a moment. “What has you up and out of your room at this hour?”

“I should be asking you the same thing,” Hannibal replies with a tilt of his head. 

“Uh huh. Nice try. I asked first.”

Hannibal thinks fast. “I was on my way to the vending machine for something to drink.”

“Right. Well, I’ll walk with you, then,” Will says. He nods once and starts walking down the hallway, towards the elevator where the vending machines are. “I couldn’t sleep so I was gonna go for a walk.”

“Outside? It’s cold,” Hannibal points out. “That jacket can’t be warm enough.”

“I am sweating, if you haven’t noticed. I think the chill will do me some good.”

Hannibal looks at Will again, inhales, and sure enough, he smells the unmistakable scent of sweat. He brings a hand to Will’s forehead and frowns at the heat. 

“You’re quite warm,” Hannibal says. They stop in front of the vending machine and Hannibal puts in a few crisp dollar bills. He punches the button for a bottle of water, then does it again, and hands one to Will. He continues, “You should go back to your room and draw yourself a bath. And drink plenty of water.”

“Are those doctor’s orders?” Will asks, an eyebrow raised. 

“Yes.” 

With any luck, Will is going to listen to him, go take a bath, then go back to bed. Then Hannibal is going to put his plan back in motion to go kill Marissa and display her in the Hobbs’s hunting cabin, to be discovered in the morning when they make the trek out there. 

Will leans against the vending machine, arms crossed, then nods. 

“Might be a good idea. I probably haven't taken a bath in years, but it sounds nice,” Will sighs. 

“Have you been feeling unwell, otherwise?” Hannibal asks. He starts walking back down the hall towards their rooms, wanting to speed this up. 

“Headaches, body aches. I’m probably coming down with something,” Will shrugs. He doesn’t seem too concerned. 

“Well, try and get some rest. Why were you awake tonight?” 

“Nightmare,” Will says. “I’ve been having them a lot since… since Hobbs.”

“Understandable. You are dealing with a traumatic experience on top of a lot of other work related stress. Now you’re back in the state it happened, going to the exact location, surely it cannot be good for you. Perhaps you should go home to Virginia and take some time off?” 

They come to Will’s door and he shakes his head. “No. No, I’ll be just fine. Abigail still needs our help and I feel like I’m finding some answers myself. I’ll take that bath, I’ll take an aspirin, and I’ll get back in bed.” 

“Very well. I cannot force you to go home if you do not wish to. I hope you feel better,” Hannibal says and goes back to his hotel room. 

He waits until he hears the water running through the thin walls and he sets off again, not running into anyone this time. He hopes, if it comes to it, if he needs an alibi, that seeing Will in the middle of the night will do him a favor or two. 

—————

Hannibal works quickly, having lost a bit of time in the hallway with Will. By the time Marissa’s body is mounted on the antlers on the second floor of the Hobbs’s hunting cabin, steadily bleeding out onto the floorboards below, the sun is coming up through the trees. 

Knowing he has to get back soon, he restashes his supplies, somewhere he hopes they will not be found, and he heads back to the hotel. 

Once back at the hotel he sneaks up to his room, careful to avoid the eyes of anyone in the halls, jacket hood pulled up over his head. Inside his room, he strips off all of his clothes and gets in the shower. If Will hears it running through the wall, he’ll just assume Hannibal has just woken up. If Alana or Abigail hear him from the other side, they’ll just assume the same. 

Dried off and clothed again, Hannibal leaves his room and knocks on Will’s door. He’s greeted a moment later, Will rubbing sleep from his eyes, sweat-soaked hair plastered to his forehead, in just his boxers. It’s completely endearing. 

“Mornin’” Will mumbles. 

“I came to see if you were feeling any better,” Hannibal says. 

Will shakes his head. “No, but I’m fine. Sorry, what time is it?”

“9:30,” Hannibal tells him. 

Will pushes his hair out of his eyes and then looks down at himself. The realization he’s just in his underwear clearly hits him and he looks back up at Hannibal with apologetic eyes. 

“Sorry. I didn’t realize I’m half naked.” 

“Not to worry. How about you get dressed and I take you out for breakfast?” Hannibal asks. 

“Okay sure. I’ll shower and get dressed. Twenty minutes?” 

“Twenty minutes is perfect.” 

Hannibal goes back to his room and waits until there’s a knock on his door. He opens it to see Will dressed in the same clothes he wore the night before, the same jacket that will not be warm enough for him. 

They find a diner nearby and walk to it, Will with his hands shoved into the pockets of his light coat. If Will weren’t so stubborn, Hannibal is sure that his teeth would be chattering. 

The diner itself is not quite up to Hannibal’s standards, but he wants to make sure Will eats something. Hannibal sits there drinking cheap black coffee, trying not to grimace with each sip. 

“You really aren’t going to eat anything?” Will asks. He pushes eggs around on his plate with his fork. He picks up a strip of bacon and holds it out to Hannibal. 

With a sigh, Hannibal takes it and eats it, for some reason, not wanting to disappoint Will. Hannibal doesn’t live for anyone but himself, but here he is, doing exactly what Will Graham wants of him. 

“You can’t just ask someone out on a breakfast date and then not eat anything,” Will says. 

Hannibal raises an eyebrow and cocks his head. “Is that what I did? Ask you out on a date?”

“It was a joke,” Will mutters. “Unless that’s what you did.”

“Would you have accepted if I had?” Hannibal asks, curious as to what Will is going to say. He wouldn’t mind dating Will, he’s been completely taken with the man since the second they met in Jack Crawford’s office. 

There’s a darkness in Will that Hannibal wants to nurture and help expand. Hannibal wants to be seen by him, wants to see Will in return. That’s new for Hannibal. Uncharted territory. 

“Maybe,” Will shrugs. He spears a piece of sausage with his fork and brings it to his mouth, watching Hannibal as he chews. Once he swallows, he says, “Although, I’m, like, sort of your patient, right?”

“Not in any official capacity, no. And we could always put an end to that arrangement should our relationship venture into something different.” 

Hannibal takes another sip of his coffee and watches Will, trying to see if his face gives anything away. Hannibal knows he’s being very, very forward and likely shouldn’t even cross any sort of boundary like this. If Alana finds out she’ll definitely report Hannibal on ethics violations. 

“Okay. Yeah. If you asked me out on a date, I would accept,” Will says finally. “But this is not a date. This is me eating breakfast while you watch me like a creep.” 

Hannibal lets himself smile at that. 

“If we do pursue any sort of romantic relationship,” Hannibal starts. “I would not want to tell anyone. At least not until we have been out of therapy together for several months.”

“Bold of you to assume we’ll make it several months,” Will says. He pushes his plate away from himself, clearly done with his half-eaten breakfast. “But, sure. Yeah, that could be serious ethical issues if we tell people now.” 

“Yes,” Hannibal agrees. 

The waitress comes by and sets the check down on the table. Will reaches for it, but Hannibal picks it up first. 

“You didn’t get anything,” Will protests. He reaches to grab the check again but Hannibal just holds it closer to him and pulls his wallet out of his pocket. 

“I asked you to breakfast, I will pay,” Hannibal says firmly. 

Will looks like he wants to protest again but Hannibal shoots him a glare across the table and stands to pay the check up at the front. With a huff of breath, Will stands and follows him. 

On the walk back, Will says, “You never did ask me on a date.”

“I suppose I didn’t. Dinner tonight? I will make reservations somewhere,” Hannibal replies. “Say, 8 o’ clock? Assuming everything with the Hobbs’s cabin goes smoothly.”

“Sure. It’s a date then, Doctor Lecter.”

“Is that what you’re going to call me?” 

“No, probably not.” Will shakes his head. 

They reach the hotel again close to 11 and Alana calls Hannibal the second he’s back in his hotel room. 

“Good morning, Alana,” Hannibal answers. 

“Good morning, Hannibal. Where are you?” 

“I am back in my room, now. Will and I were out for breakfast,” Hannibal says. “Are we planning on going soon?” 

“Yeah, Abigail is getting ready now. Are you ready to go?” 

“I am. I will go check on Will,” Hannibal says and hangs up. 

A few minutes later they all meet at the car. Alana drives and Abigail sits in the passenger seat, giving directions to her father's hunting cabin. 

That leaves Hannibal and Will in the back seat together. Hannibal wants to reach out, see if holding Will’s hand would be acceptable, but with Alana just in front of them, her eyes darting to the rear view mirror every few seconds, Hannibal knows it’s a risk he’s not willing to take. 

Upon arrival at the hunting cabin, Hannibal shuts down all outward emotion about what they are about to uncover. Not wise to look even minutely excited and give away the entire surprise. 

“Everything’s already been taken for evidence, but maybe being here can help you uncover a memory or two,” Will tells Abigail before they get out of the car. 

Walking in, nothing seems out of the ordinary, until blood starts seeping through the ceiling and a drop lands on Abigail’s face. She runs upstairs, against Will’s instructions to let him go first, lets out a piercing scream and nearly falls to the floor in shock at the sight of her friend. 

Hannibal stands there, a hand over his mouth in an attempt to look shocked himself. Will calls Jack, tells him to get crime scene investigators and a coroner here to take the body. Alana takes Abigail back downstairs and out to the car, her wails permeating through the entire cabin. 

“You can go back to the hotel with them,” Will says when he hangs up the phone. “You should. I have to wait here until police show up to rope off the area, then it’ll be another couple of hours before Jack can get here. He’s getting on a plane now.”

“I would like to stay, but maybe we can sit outside?” Hannibal suggests. He’s already grabbing Will by the shoulders and leading him down the stairs to the first floor of the cabin. 

Before Alana and Abigail can leave, Hannibal retrieves a blanket and his extra coat from the car, then tells them to return to the hotel, that they’ll get a ride back with Jack when he arrives. 

Hannibal and Will sit next to each other on the small step outside the cabin’s door. Hannibal gives Will the extra jacket, and Will puts it on gratefully, then Hannibal wraps the blanket over both of their shoulders. They have to sit close, but Hannibal doesn’t mind. 

“We might have to cancel dinner tonight. Sorry,” Will mumbles. 

“That’s alright, Will.” 

“It sucks. I didn’t think this Copycat would kill this way again. Especially with Hobbs dead, of course this guy has to know we know he’s a separate killer, right?”

“Maybe seeming like the same killer wasn’t his intention at all,” Hannibal shrugs. 

“The first one felt gift-wrapped. As if whoever left it had left it to show me exactly what Hobbs _wasn’t._ Now, sure, it’s a tragedy that another teenage girl had to die for me to see Hobbs, but if she hadn’t, and I hadn’t, there would have been ten, fifteen, maybe even twenty more girls for all we know,” Will says quietly. “But this? I don’t know what this is.” 

Will takes a bottle of aspirin out of his coat pocket and dry swallows two pills. Hannibal brings a hand to his forehead again and feels the feverish warmth under his skin. Will pushes slightly into the touch. 

“You shouldn’t be on this, Will. This case.”

“I really have no choice, Hannibal.” 

He drops his head to Hannibal’s shoulder and Hannibal really can’t believe how freely he’s giving Hannibal trust. Not that a head on a shoulder shows trust, but Will is allowing touch, allowing Hannibal to sit with him, now. The killer he’s searching for. 

“When the police get here, I am going to call Jack Crawford and ask him to list us on the next flight to Virginia, and then I’m going to drive you home and make you soup and feed your dogs.” 

“Hannibal, really. I can’t go home.” He rubs his face on Hannibal’s shoulder, likely enjoying the softness of his jacket. “I have to save lives.” 

“You shouldn’t put your own health at risk.” 

“I’m fine. That’s final.”

Will pulls himself off the step and out of the blanket encasing them both and Hannibal is left cold despite the blanket over his shoulders. Will paces the clearing in front of the cabin, a hand rubbing at his mouth, then fingers massaging at his temples. Hannibal watches him do this for fifteen minutes. 

At that point, the first of the police show up and start roping off the area. Investigators go inside to start marking evidence and Will follows them up the stairs. Hannibal gets up from the step and stands off to the side, out of everyone’s way. 

An officer comes up to him and starts asking questions. Hannibal relays everything that happened from the moment they drove up to the moment Will called Jack Crawford. 

Will comes back outside and stands next to Hannibal. 

“It looks like she tried to fight. There’s blood and skin tissue in her teeth. We might be able to get a DNA match,” Will tells him. 

Of course, Hannibal already knew that. He planted Nicholas Boyle’s blood in her mouth. 

“Well, that’s good news,” Hannibal nods. “Jack isn't flying into Minneapolis, is he?”

Will shakes his head. “Well. Yes, he’s flying into Minneapolis but he’s getting a connection to one of the regional airports closer to us. We won’t have to wait for him to make the drive from MSP to Chippewa National Forest, at least.”

“That’s fortunate.” 

Will nods once then shifts awkwardly on his feet. “They want to wait for Jack before taking the body down, but she’s gonna bleed through those floorboards until she’s drained. I don’t really want to be around to watch it or hear the dripping.” 

“Let’s take a walk, then,” Hannibal suggests. 

They start walking down a path near the cabin, far away from the police who walk in and out, away from the sound of blood dripping onto the floor. 

* * *

Inside the cabin with the investigators, Will realizes something. When they mention Marissa’s supposed time of death, Will realizes that was only a few hours after he had seen Hannibal trying to sneak out of his hotel room. Marissa had been reported missing by her mother earlier that day. She didn’t come downstairs for breakfast that morning and her mom went to check on her, thinking she was just sleeping in, only to find her bed empty. 

Will doesn’t want to think about the possibility of Hannibal being responsible for this, but the timing makes sense. If he took Marissa the night before and sedated her, tied her up somewhere, he would’ve had enough time to get from their hotel to the cabin, kill her at the time suspected, then be back by 9:30 in the morning. The timing is too perfect. 

(And to think he believed Hannibal would actually drink a bottle of water from a vending machine, as if he doesn’t probably buy cases of expensive water everywhere he goes.)

Then he thinks about how he met Hannibal and then the next day, Cassie Boyle was left on the stag head, a crime scene gift-wrapped to the point where he could see almost perfectly. 

And even though it’s quite possible Hannibal killed these girls, he did it for the sake of the investigation. The first one, at least. He saved countless other lives by killing one more to show Will what he was missing. 

He doesn’t actually care about the sound of dripping blood, not that they’ll actually be able to hear it much anyways. She won’t seep through the floor like Will tells Hannibal because a tarp was put down. He wants to talk, but the only way they can do that is if they’re nowhere near the cabin, away from curious ears. So that’s why he’s glad Hannibal suggests a walk. 

Once out of earshot from the cabin, Will stops Hannibal with a hand on his arm. 

“I know,” Will says simply. 

Something on Hannibal’s face changes, and he says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re the Copycat,” Will whispers. 

Hannibal tenses but Will brings a hand to his cheek, an attempt at soothing the man. He doesn’t look into Hannibal’s eyes, not right now. 

“Are you going to turn me in?” Hannibal asks. 

“No. Not now that I find you interesting,” Will whispers. “But if that blood in her mouth is yours…” 

“It’s not,” Hannibal says, cutting Will off before he can finish his thought. “For you to suggest I could have made such a reckless mistake is almost insulting.” 

“I didn’t mean for it to be,” Will says with a shrug. He finally meets Hannibal’s eyes, hand still resting on his cheek. “I just want to know so I can push this investigation in the correct direction. Whose blood is in Marissa Schurr’s mouth?” 

Hannibal closes his eyes and sighs before answering, “Nicholas Boyle. The young man that came to the Hobbs’ property the other day.”

“Good. I can work with that.” 

“Will, I must say, this is rather unexpected.”

“Is it?” Will asks. He drops his hand and reaches for Hannibal’s own. He looks down at the hand in his grasp, then says, “I feel as though you _wanted_ me to see you, Hannibal. And I do.” 

“Not all of me.” 

“No, I imagine not. Maybe one day.” 

And Will hopes so. He doesn’t know exactly where this is coming from, but as he stands there with Hannibal’s hand in his own, he realizes that it’s something he might want. 

Killing Garrett Jacob Hobbs made him feel powerful, and here’s an intelligent killer right in front of him, one that will show him what he’s missing in crime scenes if he just asks. 

“Maybe,” Hannibal agrees. 

————

Hours later, when Jack finally arrives, Hannibal and Will are sitting in the back seat of one of the police cruisers. Just about everyone is sitting outside in their cars, waiting for the FBI to roll in. 

Beverly, Jimmy and Brian follow Jack up to the door and Will gets out, patting Hannibal on the thigh as a way of saying he’ll be back. He didn’t expect Hannibal to get out and follow them in, too. Of course, no one will question it. Hannibal is supposed to be his anchor in situations like these. 

Hannibal walks ahead of Will and Will watches him whisper something in Jack’s ear. Jack turns to look at Will, then back at Hannibal and nods, patting Hannibal’s back before leaving him to go ahead into the cabin. 

The body has drained by this point, a puddle on a tarp they placed underneath it. There’s markings of possible evidence, which is actually not much at all. 

“Tell me what you think, Will,” Jack orders. 

“Victim’s been ID’d as Marissa Schurr from Bloomington. One of Abigail’s friends from home,” Will starts off. “At first, I believed this to be the same killer that killed Cassie Boyle, but it doesn’t appear that any organs have been taken from Marissa, so it is difficult to say. It could be another copycat killing for all we know. There was blood found in her mouth, by the way.”

Jimmy nods and swaps the inside of her mouth, bagging the sample for testing. 

Will continues, “The killer that killed Cassie Boyle had done it to show us exactly what we were missing in regards to Hobbs. This killing isn’t quite like that. This. This feels like a warning, Jack.” 

“Why do you say that?” 

“A young man showed up while Abigail and Marissa were walking around the woods behind Abigail’s house the other day. He was harassing Abigail because he thought Hobbs killed his sister.”

“Cassie Boyle’s brother,” Hannibal interjects. 

“Right, Cassie Boyle’s brother. I’m not saying for sure it’s him, but it would make sense, Jack. He has the motive, Marissa defended Abigail and threw a rock at him. He would have the means, old enough to leave home, has a car, knows his way around the state, likely. After Lounds’s article about the cabin, anyone has a means to find it,” Will explains. He glances over at Hannibal who is standing behind Jack. Will can tell he’s satisfied with the way this is being handled. “It’s a starting point. Otherwise our suspect pool expands to the entirety of the state that reads Tattlecrime.”

“We’ll start there, then,” Jack nods. “Will, get out of here. You look exhausted.”

“We have no way to get back. Alana took Abigail back to the hotel in the rental car,” Will sighs. 

“I’ll arrange a ride with an officer. We’ll call you in the morning if we figure anything out. You’ve done enough for today,” Jack says. 

The car ride back is filled with silence, the police officer driving doesn’t try to make conversation with the men in the back seat and Will can tell he’s annoyed. Who would want to play chauffeur to the FBI consultants? Will gets it. 

Unlikely they’ll ever see the man again, unlikely that he’ll say anything to Jack, Will decides to reach across the middle of the back seat and pull Hannibal’s hand into his own. They hold hands in the space between them. 

They thank him for the ride when he pulls up outside of the hotel. It’s dark, much too late for a proper dinner date, but Will suggests food anyways. He hasn’t eaten since breakfast, and Hannibal hasn’t eaten at all as far as Will knows. 

They find a decent restaurant near the hotel, and Hannibal actually orders something to eat. 

While they wait for their food, Will tries to find something to say, but nothing seems suitable for public conversation. They just watch each other from opposite ends of the table. 

Dinner goes by in silence. _So much for a date,_ Will thinks sarcastically. 

They finish their meals and leave the restaurant, Hannibal once again paying for their meals, much to Will’s dismay. 

Out of the cold fall air, walking back to the hotel, Hannibal’s hand brushes Will’s and when Will doesn’t pull his hand away, Hannibal laces their fingers together. 

The rest of Will is cold. Hannibal was right about his jacket. The only warm part of him against the cold is where their hands are conjoined. 

When they reach the edge of the hotel parking lot, they release each other, neither one saying a word about it, just knowing that if Alana saw them, it would be bad. Cataclysmic, even. 

Will clears his throat when they reach his door, suddenly nervous. “Did you want to come in?” 

Hannibal glances down the hallway then shakes his head. He lifts a hand to Will’s chin to tilt his face up towards him, and places a soft kiss on his lips. 

“Get some rest, Will,” Hannibal whispers. He backs away from Will and goes to his own door, leaving Will completely flustered in the hallway as Hannibal disappears into his room. Will stands there for a moment, fingertips grazing over his mouth where Hannibal’s lips had been a second before. He shakes his head and pulls himself together, then goes into his hotel room. 

————

Will wakes up to his phone buzzing on the nightstand next to him. He grasps blindly for it in the dark of his hotel room. When he finally gets his fingers around it, he manages to answer it right before the last ring. 

“Hello?” He answers, voice heavy with sleep, throat dry from turning on the AC in the middle of the night after waking up sweating. 

“Will, it’s Jack. Sorry to wake you,” Jack replies. Will knows he isn’t sorry. 

“No, no it’s fine. What’s up?” Will rubs at his eyes, then searches for the lamp switch. He puts on his glasses while Jack talks. 

“We’ve had officers outside the Hobbs residence over night just in case you were right about the murder being a warning. They saw a man lurking around and looking in through windows a few minutes ago. He ran before they could catch him,” Jack explains. 

“They didn’t chase him?” Will asks. 

“No, the area behind their house is really wooded and he seemed to know the area. It might have been Nicholas Boyle.”

“So what are we gonna do then? Did you go to his house to question him earlier?”

“Yes, just after we left the scene. His mother said he hasn’t been home more than five minutes since Cassie’s body was found,” Jack sighs. “She doesn’t know when he’ll be back next or what he’s been doing.”

“So what’s the plan then?” Will asks. He stares up at the ceiling and wonders if Hannibal is awake next door. He wishes Hannibal would have come in with him tonight. 

“Bring Abigail back to her house later today, spend the night there. If he’s lurking, he’s looking for her.”

Will feels rage bubble up inside him. He takes a steadying breath, counts to three, then says, as calm as possible, “You want to use her as bait?”

“You’ll be there, Hannibal will be there, Alana will be there. We will be right down the street to come get him at a moment's notice. You just need to get cuffs on him. You know the Miranda rights, yeah?” 

“I was a police officer for years, Jack. Of course I do. So what, I make the arrest? On what grounds, exactly do I get him? Was there a DNA link or just trespassing?”

“Trespassing for now unless he attempts to harm one of you. We’ll get his DNA when we bring him in.”

“I don’t like this, Jack.”

“It’s all we’ve got, Will. Sooner we get this done, the sooner we can all go home,” Jack says. 

“Have you told Alana about this plan yet?”

There’s a pause. “I was hoping you could.”

“Not a fucking chance. You know how she’ll react, you don’t want to deal with it. Figure it out, Jack. I’m going back to sleep.” 

Will hangs up without another word. He throws his phone back down on the nightstand, takes off his glasses again, turns off the lamp, and turns over, pulling the covers up to his shoulders. Minutes later his phone starts buzzing on the nightstand again.

He answers without looking at the caller ID. 

“Jack, I swear to fucking god,” Will says into the phone, patience running thin. “If you’re calling to ask me to tell Alana I swear-”

“Will.”

The voice that cuts him off isn’t Jack at all.

“Hannibal,” Will sighs. “Sorry, I thought you were Jack.” 

“Do you not have contacts saved?” Hannibal asks. There’s a hint of amusement in his voice. 

“No, I’m just not wearing glasses, and I didn’t bother to look, you know,” Will says. 

Hannibal hums in agreement. “Jack did call me a moment ago to tell me about a plan to use Abigail as bait. He then asked if I would pass the message on to Alana.”

“And did you agree?” 

“Absolutely not. I have known Alana for many years, and I know she will be furious with this idea.”

“And you? How do you feel about it?” 

Will knows, knowing what he knows about Hannibal now, that he is likely indifferent. There’s no way Hannibal truly cares about it one way or another. What he doesn’t expect is for Hannibal to tell him the truth. 

“I’m curious to see what will happen,” Hannibal says after a moment. 

At the admission, Will can’t help but let out a quiet laugh. He runs his hand over his face and takes a deep breath, unsure if he should really say what he wants to say. He decides to. 

“You should come to my room.”

The sun hasn’t yet begun to peek through the curtains, and Will has spent every waking moment since they parted earlier in the night thinking about that kiss. It was barely a kiss, more like a brushing of lips, as if Hannibal had just gotten too close. He wants more. 

And it’s likely Jack won’t call Alana for several more hours, having more courtesy than to wake her up at– _what time is it?_ Will thinks. 

Either way, Jack Crawford wouldn’t do that, wouldn’t call Alana at this hour, not when Alana and Abigail are sharing a room and it would cause Abigail panic if she overhears them discussing the plan so early. No, he knows her reaction will be loud and angry, so he’s going to wait until it’s practical for Alana to step away from Abigail for a few minutes. That will not be for several more hours.

So, without the threat of Alana being awake any time soon, Hannibal and Will could have some time to– to what? Will realizes he doesn’t know exactly what reason he asked Hannibal to come over. To kiss? To fuck? To just spend time together? Will finds himself not caring much about the exact outcome. 

“Did you hear me, Will?” 

Hannibal’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts and he curses at himself for getting so wrapped up in them. 

“Sorry, no. What?” Will asks. 

“In an attempt to sound flirtatious, I said ‘oh, should I?’ but when I didn’t receive a response I thought you may have hung up.” 

Will groans quietly at himself for missing that. “Sorry, I was thinking about how if you come over we’d have time because Jack won’t call to wake Alana up at this hour.”

“And yet he decided to call and wake the both of us,” Hannibal says. There’s movement on the other end of the line, it sounds like Hannibal getting out of bed and putting his shoes on. There’s the sound of shuffled footsteps across the carpet and then a door opening. “Very well. I’m outside your door.” 

“Uh. Right.” Will hangs up his phone. He hadn’t expected Hannibal to actually agree so quickly and now he doesn’t even know what he _wants_ or what he plans to _accomplish_ by this late night meeting. 

Will disentangles himself from the hotel sheets and stumbles to the door. He opens it to see Hannibal, still in pajamas, a pair of slippers on his feet. His hair falls into his face and it’s the first time Will has seen him so casual, so soft looking. 

Yet again, Will looks down and realizes he’s in nothing but his boxers and he feels the need to cover up. 

Hannibal pays no mind and steps into the room, a shiver ripping through his body the second he steps over the threshold. 

“It’s very cold in here and you’re in nothing but your underwear,” Hannibal says once the door is shut behind him. 

“I. Yeah. I can turn off the AC if you’re uncomfortable.” 

Will goes to the unit and turns up the temperature a few degrees, but Hannibal comes up behind him and lightly grasps his wrist to stop him. 

“It’s quite alright,” Hannibal whispers. He lets go of Will’s wrist then turns and walks to the bed, climbing in and getting under the blankets. 

“Make yourself at home,” Will mumbles under his breath, but he follows Hannibal and gets in next to him. 

Hannibal brings a hand to Will’s forehead and makes a displeased noise in the dark and Will thinks for a moment that Hannibal might leave if he thinks Will is sick. When Hannibal makes no attempt to move, Will settles down in the bed and lets himself relax again. 

“I understand why you have the room cold,” Hannibal murmurs. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Will says. 

“If it persists I would suggest seeing a doctor,” Hannibal tells him. 

“You’re a doctor.”

“Hm, yes, but I do not currently have the proper tools to diagnose you or treat you.” 

“No, I guess not.” 

* * *

Will rolls over onto his side and faces Hannibal, who sits up against the headboard. He looks down at Will and wants to touch him again. Against his better judgment, Hannibal lays down on the mattress on his back and pulls Will towards him, allowing both of them to get comfortable. 

It’s dangerous, as Hannibal wouldn’t mind another few hours of sleep and he knows Will likely needs it too. If they both fall asleep, then chances of them being caught by Alana are high. 

The smaller man is warm against Hannibal’s body, head slightly damp from sweat, where it lays on Hannibal’s shoulder. Hannibal runs a hand up and down Will’s back. Will splays his hand against Hannibal’s chest, right over his heart. 

“Is this what you were hoping for when you asked me to come over?” Hannibal asks quietly. 

“Mm. I wasn’t hoping for anything in particular,” Will responds. Hannibal can hear the truth in his words. “This is good.” 

They lay there in silence for a few minutes until Will speaks again. 

“Were you the guy lurking outside the Hobbs residence?” 

Surprised by the question, Hannibal laughs. “No, although that would not have been a terrible idea. I do believe Nicholas Boyle is trying to find Abigail. Maybe explain that he’s being set up. Surely his mother contacted him about the FBI questioning her. I am sure she has seen her son more than she told them.”

“Well, of course she has. She won’t believe her son had it in him to kill Marissa, and especially not Cassie. She doesn’t want to lose another child, so she’s going to protect him,” Will says. “I mean, wouldn't you?”

“For different reasons, likely.” 

“Do you think Abigail helped her father?”

Again, Hannibal is surprised, but he can’t help but feel like it makes sense that this is where Will’s train of thought has gone. They’ve taken in Abigail, feeling somewhat of a responsibility, and Hannibal sees it in her. That’s part of why he wants to see what may happen with Nicholas Boyle, should he show up to try talking to Abigail. 

“Yes. I do,” Hannibal responds. “I see why you have asked. And yes, I feel the need to protect her from Jack Crawford, but also, as you know, I’m curious.”

In truth, Hannibal can’t believe how open he’s being with Will. All Will currently knows is that Hannibal is the Copycat, not that he’s also the Chesapeake Ripper and several others. In time, everything else will fall into place for Will, and if he doesn’t figure it out on his own, Hannibal may even tell him. That’s how compelled he is to be honest with Will. The person who is hunting him, who could go to Jack with Hannibal’s confessions and put him in prison. It’s a weird feeling. 

“Curious to see if she’ll kill Nick Boyle?” Will asks. His voice is barely audible, muffled against Hannibal’s shoulder. 

“Yes,” Hannibal breathes. 

“It won’t work.” Will lifts his head from Hannibal’s shoulder and meets his eyes in the dark. His voice comes loud and clear as he explains, “Jack will wonder why we left her alone in the house. There’s no reason for him to think we didn't facilitate it if we claim we were all out of the room. And you saw the kid. He’s barely bigger than I am, surely no match against the both of us. He’d have to injure me, you _and_ Alana if we want any chance of it looking like Abigail killed him in self defense.” 

“Can I ask you something?” Hannibal whispers. 

“Sure.” Will drops his head back to Hannibal’s shoulder. 

“Why didn’t you go to Jack? What do you have to gain by letting me walk free?”

“You understand me,” Will says quietly. “Maybe we haven’t known each other for long, but I think what we have experienced together has made us close and I feel as though I can trust you with my brain. Most psychiatrists want to study me, but you’ve never made an indication that would be something you want.”

“And yet, here we are, laying together. We went on a date earlier tonight. Jack Crawford is going to want to find you a new psychiatrist if we stop having sessions.” 

“I’ve considered that. If we don’t tell anyone about our relationship and we just tell Jack we’re still having sessions, what’s the harm? You don’t need to actually act as my psychiatrist, I wouldn’t ask that of you as a… as a romantic partner?” Hannibal makes a noise of assent at that and Will continues, “But it would keep him satisfied. Make him think you’re keeping me stable. I can fake it.” 

“And if you can’t? That would reflect poorly on my reputation if something were to happen to you.”

“I don’t feel unstable… Not always. I don’t know. I’m just thinking out loud here. We don’t have to figure it out right now,” Will says. He yawns into Hannibal’s chest. 

“I feel as though you’re holding onto consciousness just to converse with me. I can go if you would like to sleep,” Hannibal says. He makes no attempt to move. 

“Stay here. Sleep a few hours and go back before Alana gets up.”

“That’s risky.”

“I don’t really care right now. If she sees you going back to your room just say you fell asleep on my chair after coming over to drink the day away,” Will suggests with another yawn. 

“I’m unsure how believable she’ll find that, but very well. As you wish.”

Hannibal reaches over and sets an alarm on his phone for 8 am, four hours from now and he settles back onto the pillow, Will’s warm body curling around him in the freezing room. 

Will’s breathing evens out, his head resting on Hannibal’s shoulder still and Hannibal inhales, trying to focus on the scent beneath the sweat. There’s a fevered sweetness to Will and Hannibal realizes it may be the early stages of encephalitis. 

Quite possibly, Hannibal could use this to his advantage– let Will believe he’s slowly slipping into madness, allow his darker urges to come to light through manipulation of his ailed brain. He stores that possibility away for later, unsure if he wants to do that, or if he wants to spend the rest of his nights like this, with Will curled around his body, sleeping soundly. 

Hannibal knows not where this softer side of him is coming from. Typically all romantic or sexual relationships have been a means to an end. Alibis, to gain information, or just simply because he likes sex. 

Not Will, he doesn’t feel the need to gain anything from Will, though at this point it will help to keep him close, knowing what he knows. It has nothing to do with an alibi because he’s not suspected of anything, nor does he want to reduce it all down to sex. It’s more than that but what it is, Hannibal doesn’t quite know yet. 

The moment he met Will, he was interested. With each conversation after, with Will killing Garett Jacob Hobbs without a second thought, all of it. He feels drawn to Will in a way he’s never been drawn to another human. 

With Will in bed next to him, he lets himself be lulled to sleep by the sound of Will’s steady breathing. 

* * *

Will wakes to a phone ringing nearby and groans, “Oh fuck off,” into his pillow. The pillow then shifts under him and Will realizes it’s a body. He opens his eyes and remembers he had asked Hannibal to stay the rest of the night.

He sees Hannibal turn off the alarm and set his phone back down on the nightstand. Will buries his face further into Hannibal’s chest and then with a groan, he rolls off of him onto his back. 

“I trust you slept well?” Hannibal asks, turning to lay on his side facing Will. 

“Like a baby,” Will responds. He doesn’t remember the last time he slept without nightmares, but with Hannibal there it seems as though they were all scared off. 

“I should go back to my room before Alana wakes up and comes looking for us.” 

Will nods. “Yeah. Probably.” 

“If this case stretches out longer than we planned on staying, I will be having to go home before it’s over. I would honestly suggest you come, as well.”

“We’re gonna end it tonight, though, right? Nicholas Boyle gets caught, they match the DNA? We’ll both need to come back for the trial, I’m sure. It won’t be right away.” 

“Yes, but if it doesn’t go as planned and Nicholas Boyle doesn’t even show up?”

“Are you going to kill him before he can?” Will asks. He sits up and looks down at Hannibal. The man stretches where he lays and smiles lazily as he does it. 

The act seems oddly more human than anything Will has ever seen him do. There’s never much emotion on his face, everything about him always seems so perfect and calculated, but this? His hair is astray and his sweater is rumpled. It’s not the Doctor Hannibal Lecter that everyone else sees. 

“Of course not, just listing possible outcomes.” 

“Right.” 

Will pats Hannibal’s stomach and smiles when Hannibal’s hands catch his. Hannibal lifts Will’s hand to his lips and brushes a light kiss over his knuckles. Will’s heart skips in his chest at the gesture and he is torn between pulling his hand away or leaning down and kissing Hannibal’s lips. He decides to do neither and just stays exactly where he is. Hannibal drops their hands to rest on his chest. Will feels his steady heartbeat under him palm. 

“You should go,” Will says after a few minutes. 

“And yet I find myself reluctant.” 

Will shakes his head with a laugh. “Get up. Let’s go get breakfast and make sure we’re far away from the hotel when Jack calls Alana with the plan.” 

Hannibal sets Will’s hand on the bed between them, then sits up and stretches his arms above his head. 

“I can be dressed in ten minutes,” Hannibal says, collecting his phone and sliding on his slippers again. He goes to the door and opens it just a crack, making sure no one’s out in the hall.

“Ten minutes,” Will agrees and pulls on a pair of pants as Hannibal leaves the room to go back to his own. 

On the walk to a restaurant, Will pulls his jacket tight around him and digs his hands into his pockets.

“I’m assuming you have another car somewhere,” Will says. “There’s no way you drove the rental to do what you did.”

“You would be correct.”

“Are you going to elaborate on how you got a car here? It’s not a rental, right?”

Hannibal shakes his head. “Stolen, of course. I changed the plates, but I took it from a park-and-ride near the airport so the owner has not yet reported it missing.”

Will blinks in disbelief. “You– You what? Hannibal, Jesus, those places have cameras and shit.” 

“I am very good at what I do, Will.” 

“How long have you been doing stuff like this?”

“A long time.” 

Will knows by the tone of Hannibal’s voice that the conversation isn’t going to go much further than this. So much trust has already been given and any more would be too much, too soon. 

They reach a restaurant and Hannibal actually chooses something off the menu this time. Halfway through their meals, Alana calls Will.

“Hello?” Will answers. 

“Did Jack Crawford call you about this plan he came up with?” Alana says right off the bat. She sounds beyond pissed off. “Also, where are you?”

“Yes, Jack called me,” Will sighs. “Hannibal and I are out for breakfast.”

Hannibal tilts his head ever so slightly as if trying to tell Will something. Will can’t quite figure out what, Hannibal’s mental walls built up too high. 

“And do you think it’s a good plan?” Alana asks. 

“God no,” Will says. “I think it’s terrible. Hannibal thinks it’s terrible. Someone’s going to get hurt and Abigail’s gonna end up even more traumatized.”

“I agree. Jack won’t hear it, though. He thinks you’ll be able to restrain Nicholas Boyle and arrest him.” 

“I know.” 

“Anyways. Why don’t you and Hannibal wake us up to see if we want breakfast? That’s two days in a row you’ve gone out without us,” Alana changes the subject. 

“They’re sort of, ah, impromptu therapy sessions. After yesterday, I especially needed it,” Will explains. 

Hannibal gives him a curious look and Will rolls his eyes at him. 

“Look, Alana. We’re gonna finish eating then come back to the hotel, alright? I’ll talk to you later.”

“Alright,” Alana huffs. “Bye.”

Will hangs up and sets his phone down on the table. 

“Impromptu therapy sessions,” Hannibal repeats. 

“I was thinking fast,” Will mumbles into his plate. “Should I have told her flat-out that we’re on a date right now?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so.” 

They finish their breakfast and Will snatches the check off the table before Hannibal can. When the waiter returns Will’s credit card, he slides it back into his wallet and looks at Hannibal across the table. 

“Hey, so if I’m sick with something, you’re probably gonna get it. I would say sorry, but _you_ kissed _me_ last night and _you_ got into _my_ bed, so I can’t really take responsibility,” Will says. 

“I have complete faith in my immune system, don’t worry,” Hannibal replies.

* * *

Hannibal says it, knowing full well that Will isn’t sick with anything he can catch. He hasn’t decided whether or not he should tell Will about this or not. The encephalitis could mean promising things for Hannibal. If Nicholas Boyle doesn’t take the fall for these murders, he could easily manipulate Will until believing he committed these crimes. 

At the same time, Hannibal doesn’t want this magnificent mind to boil in this man’s skull. He has crossed a boundary now, becoming a _romantic partner_ as Will had labeled it earlier. Now it’s personal. If their relationship stayed doctor-patient then it would be different, but Hannibal feels no real need to jeopardize what’s becoming of him and Will now. Not when Will is seeing him.

Will doesn’t see everything, Hannibal knows that, but Hannibal decides he won’t work to blind Will as much as he does everyone else. Just as long as Will proves his loyalty to Hannibal and gives him no reason to blind him from the rest of his kills. Will knowing about two murders, both with no evidence leading back to Hannibal, and not saying anything is one thing. When the first was vital to solving the investigation and finding Hobbs, Will is clearly willing to overlook it. The second murder was for nothing other than trying to put the blame on someone else, cover his tracks one step further, and that could be pushing Will’s limit. 

If he finds out about the rest now, finds out that Hannibal is the Chesapeake Ripper, or that he’s killed tens of people that haven’t been attributed to any specific killer, it could be too much. Will can empathize with killers, the most gruesome of them all. He can understand their actions, their motives, everything. But can he learn to love one? The one that his superior has been searching for? And won’t give up until he’s caught? 

All the more reason to keep their relationship a secret for now. If Hannibal does follow through with his encephalitis related plans, then Hannibal will be questioned about his involvement with Will’s alleged crimes. He’ll be asked how he, an accomplished psychiatrist, missed the signs of Will’s developing insanity during a close, personal relationship. The court will take Hannibal’s testimonies with a grain of salt, knowing he’s too biased to be objective about his romantic partner. 

On the other hand, if Hannibal doesn’t go through with those plans, Will would take the fall for any of Hannibal’s crimes. It would be seen as near impossible for such a gifted profiler to miss what is happening right under his nose. If no one knows their involvement with each other, beyond the hour a week spent in Hannibal’s office, or beyond friendly dinners, or working cases together, then no one will suspect the other should anything happen to one. 

Hannibal pulls himself out of his mind when a hand lays over his own on the table. His eyes shift down to the hand, then up to Will’s eyes. Will looks at him under the rims of his glasses, blue eyes wide with something that looks like concern. Hannibal turns his hand under Will’s so they can intertwine their fingers and Hannibal gives Will’s hand a light squeeze. 

“I apologize. It appears my train of thought got away from me,” Hannibal murmurs. “Did you say something?”

“I asked if you’re ready to go.”

Hannibal nods and drops Will’s hand onto the table. He stands and pulls on his jacket, then wraps his scarf around his neck and Will shrugs his own jacket on. 

Just like the previous night, they hold hands on the walk back to the hotel. Will leans slightly into Hannibal as they walk side by side and Hannibal considers the power in the body of the man next to him. He could easily push Hannibal off balance if he wanted to, if he leaned a bit heavier into Hannibal’s body. Hannibal considers himself quite strong, he has to be, but Will doesn’t show his strength in his appearance. Hannibal thinks he wants to test it one day. Maybe even tonight if things with Nicholas Boyle go in that direction. 

Hannibal wants to see if Abigail will kill Nicholas Boyle, but if it comes down to it, Hannibal wouldn’t mind seeing Will do it himself. And of course, if both of them are put in positions where they can’t fight back, Hannibal will just finish the job. At that point it’ll be clear self defense, if the kid is able to do anything to the rest of them. Maybe Hannibal will find a way to keep Alana out of the way for this. 

He will just have to see what happens, he supposes. He grips Will’s hand a bit tighter and slows their pace a bit, wanting to savor this moment before they make it back to the hotel, before they’re stuck with Abigail and Alana for the rest of the day. 

“Will?” Hannibal asks just before they reach the hotel.

“Hm?”

“When this is all done, I would like to have you over for dinner when we return home.”

“I’d like that,” Will agrees.

They drop hands and make some space between each other as they enter the hotel and go to their floor. Hannibal knocks lightly on Alana and Abigail’s door and it opens to Alana standing there, face straight. 

Hannibal knows she’s upset about this plan, but there’s really not much else they can do. They discuss it with Abigail, explaining what Jack had told them. Will explains it, Hannibal stands next to him, not too close, but close enough. Alana looks like she wants to speak during each of Will’s pauses, but he gets his next words in before she can. 

When Will finally finishes, Alana wastes no time. 

“None of you seem worried about this,” she states angrily. “Abigail? How do you feel about this?”

Abigail shrugs. “You’ll all be there right? Nothing bad is going to happen to me.”

“We will not let you out of our sight, Abigail,” Hannibal assures her. “Should he show up, I have full confidence in Will’s ability to make the arrest. Jack Crawford will be right down the street to take him in.”

“Then I think it’ll be okay,” Abigail says. She avoids Alana’s eyes, focusing on Hannibal and Will. “Are we going now?”

Will nods. “Pack your stuff. If this goes well, we’ll all be on a flight back to the East coast by morning.”

Alana sounds beyond annoyed when she says, “We’ll meet you at the car." 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m beyond happy with the response to the first chapter so here’s another 9.1k word chapter. This has some smut in it, just a warning so you aren’t surprised. Also murder, of course. 
> 
> Not proofread, but I wanted to get this out, so there might be mistakes.

That night, Nicholas Boyle shows up while Abigail is alone in the basement. Alana had gone out to pick something up for Hannibal, Hannibal was cooking and Will was in the kitchen with him. They had both assumed Abigail would be fine in the basement for a few minutes while she got some time alone. She’s been hovered over by doctors and the FBI for a while now. Letting her sit on the couch in her own home doesn’t seem like too bad of an idea. 

It gives Hannibal and Will a few minutes to themselves with Alana gone. A few minutes they didn’t think they’d have and wanted to take advantage of. Will stands behind Hannibal at the stove, hands on Hannibal’s hips, forehead resting against the back of his shoulder. Will feels content, it feels domestic, and really, he doesn’t feel good and the touch is calming to him.

Will knows Hannibal has killed people. Likely more than just the two girls. Many more. He can’t bring himself to care about it. Hannibal is a constant in his life at this point, even after just a short amount of time. He understands what Will is experiencing because he experienced it, too. Will doesn’t think he wants to throw that away. He has no reason to hate Hannibal. 

Their moment is interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. Will steps away from Hannibal and leans against a different countertop. When Abigail emerges over the top of the stairs, her hands are covered in blood. 

Abigail looks up at Hannibal and Will from her bloody hands, tears in her vacant eyes. Will rushes to her side and directs her to the sink to wash the blood from her hands, then sets her down in a chair at the kitchen table. He kneels in front of her and Hannibal disappears down the stairs. 

“What happened, Abigail?”

“H-he was going to kill me,” Abigail whispers. 

“Nicholas Boyle?” 

She nods. 

Will hears Hannibal come back up the stairs and turns to look at him. Hannibal nods his head in the direction of the stairs and Will pats Abigail’s knee, then stands to follow Hannibal. 

“She gutted him,” Hannibal says softly as they take the stairs down. “He’s barely alive. We need to decide what to do.”

“It was self defense,” Will says. “It had to have been.”

They come to the body and Will looks down at the blood pooling, a hunting knife next to him on the floor. Nicholas Boyle is gasping as he tries to hold his bleeding stomach together. 

Will looks back up at Hannibal. “What are the chances of him surviving that?” 

“She likely damaged organs and if an ambulance showed up now, he would bleed out before they could even make an attempt to save his life,” Hannibal shrugs. “I, personally, would suggest hiding the body. This goes beyond self defense.”

“I don’t. Not if we come up with a story.” Will shakes his head, then grabs Hannibal’s hand. “I want this to be over. If we hide the body, they’ll keep us here for days trying to draw him out.”

“Will, she’ll be seen as an accessory to her father’s crimes.” 

“No. No,” Will shakes his head again. “Look, over here,” Will moves to the couch where a box is open and a pillow is cut in half, filled with hair. “She had the knife in her hand already, she was opening this pillow because she remembered that her dad used every part of the body. Nicholas Boyle came in. We heard Abigail scream and came running down, but it was too late. He had her pinned, yeah? She stabbed him, we ran to try and save him, we called Jack, we called for ERT, but he was gone.”

“Will.”

“Hannibal. Who’s the one that works for the FBI?”

“Who’s the serial killer?’ Hannibal shoots back. 

This takes Will by surprise. “I- we… Hannibal,” Will settles on. “We’re not hiding this body. It’s going to cause more problems, and Alana’s going to be back soon. Let me work this out. You can say you stayed in the kitchen, and I ran down to see what happened, if you don’t want to be a part of this. If you do, please act like you’re trying to save him when the ambulance gets here.”

Hannibal sighs and kneels down beside Nicholas Boyle, barely holding on and tries to stop the bleeding. Will pulls his phone out of his pocket and calls for an emergency response team, then Jack.

“Jack, he showed up and he’s, well... We left Abigail alone for five minutes and he must have seen Alana leave because he came in and,” Will knows he sounds frantic. 

“Will, slow down. Is anyone hurt?” Jack says in his soothing tone. 

“Nicholas Boyle is. I called for ERT, Hannibal’s doing his best, but I don’t know if it will be enough.”

“Who hurt him?”

“We heard Abigail scream in the basement and ran down, he had her pinned against the wall. She stabbed him with a hunting knife.”

“You saw it happen?”

“She had no choice,” Will says firmly. “I had my gun drawn but the risk of shooting would’ve been too high, I could’ve killed her if I did.” 

“We’ll be there in thirty seconds. I want to talk to her.”

“Okay.” 

Will hangs up and runs up the stairs. He stops in front of Abigail and kneels again.

“Abigail listen to me. Jack Crawford is coming. You are going to tell him that Nicholas Boyle had you pinned to the wall and you screamed. Hannibal and I ran down to see what happened, I had my gun drawn, but you were scared. You had to stab him or he would’ve killed you, and Hannibal tried to save him while I brought you to wash your hands,” Will tells her. “Jack’s going to see you as an accessory to your father’s crimes, but I’m going to help you, you just need to keep it clear that your life was threatened. Do you understand?” 

Abigail nods. 

Jack Crawford and several officers come through the front door and Will takes a step back, then points to the basement. A minute later, the paramedics show up with a stretcher and run down to the basement. Jack goes down the stairs, then comes back up a few minutes later. 

“Abigail, can I speak with you outside?” Jack asks her. “Will, Doctor Lecter was asking for you.” 

Will nods and gives Abigail a pat on the shoulder, before leaving her to be interrogated. He just hopes she sticks to the story so none of them look like liars. 

Downstairs is a mess of officers and paramedics and Will can’t find Hannibal at first. He’s not near the body, which is being loaded onto a stretcher and being covered in a white sheet. Will can hear the water running down a hallway and goes to find Hannibal washing the blood off his hands in the bathroom. Will steps in and shuts the door behind him. 

Hannibal glances up at him, no emotion on his face or in his voice when he says, “I couldn’t save him.”

“Couldn’t? Or didn’t want to?” Will asks. He takes one of Hannibal’s hands and holds it under the water, wiping the blood away.

“Yes,” Hannibal whispers. “I didn’t want to, but I don’t think I could have, regardless.” 

Will hums and picks up Hannibal’s other hand, cleaning the blood away from that one, too. He speaks softly, “Jack is talking to Abigail. I told her to make it clear that her life was threatened. He’s going to want to talk to you, too.”

Hannibal shuts off the water and picks up a towel, drying his hands. 

“Yes, I know. The story is that we heard her scream? You had your gun out, but could not shoot, for risk of hurting Abigail. I came down behind you, I did not see the stabbing completely, just rushed to Nicholas Boyle’s aid while you took Abigail upstairs,” Hannibal says. He turns around and pulls himself up to sit on the bathroom counter, legs spread slightly. 

Will looks down at Hannibal’s lap, then up at his eyes, and Hannibal puts his fingers in Will’s belt loops and pulls him to stand between his legs. They’re close now, and Will leans his forehead against Hannibal’s and closes his eyes. Hannibal wraps his arms around Will’s waist and Will puts his arms around Hannibal’s neck.

They stay like that for what feels like an eternity, but not long at all at the same time. Breathing each other’s air, arms wrapped tight around each other. Will, in the arms of a serial killer, when he should be out talking to Jack, or placating Alana when she shows up. Instead, he just closes the distance between their mouths, kissing Hannibal. 

Hannibal makes a surprised noise at the kiss, but starts to move his lips against Will’s a second later. Before it can go too far, Will is pulling away a few inches, pulling in deep breaths of air. When he opens his eyes, he sees Hannibal is smiling at him. 

Will puts his forehead back to Hannibal’s and closes his eyes again, enjoying the closeness. Will knows they’ll have to leave the bathroom soon, as to not be suspicious, but he wants this. 

“Do you think Abigail is going to be arrested?” Hannibal whispers after a few minutes. 

Will shakes his head. “No. Alana’s going to show up any second screaming her head off about how this was a terrible idea and that Jack should have seen something like this coming. And I am going to leave this bathroom in just a minute to ensure that’s the case.” 

“And me?” Hannibal asks. He catches Will’s lips with his own in a soft kiss, but pulls back right away, before Will can even process it. 

“Think about what you’re gonna make me for dinner when I come over. I am sure we’ll be leaving on the next flight,” Will murmurs. He pulls himself away from Hannibal entirely and makes sure he looks presentable in the mirror. “But, actually, you should come upstairs with me. Jack will want to talk to you.” 

Hannibal gets down from the counter and crowds Will against the back of the door. Will puts a hand on his chest and pushes him away, knowing if he gives into temptation, they will never leave the bathroom. 

The crossing of their boundary came easier than Will had thought it would. He was joking when he made the comment about a date, but then touching Hannibal was easy. Kissing him was easy. And it all felt good. Hannibal’s presence is calming even though Will knows he should run in the opposite direction. 

Will turns and opens the bathroom door without another word and steps out into the hallway, with Hannibal following a few feet behind him. They don’t look at each other, they don’t touch, they don’t make any indication that anything other than a private conversation was happening in the bathroom. The officers pay no mind as Hannibal and Will walk through the basement and up the stairs. 

The kitchen is how Will left it, Jack and Abigail still outside. Hannibal goes to the stove to check on the food he had abandoned. He must have turned off the burner before going downstairs because nothing is burnt. Hannibal glances up at Will and Will looks away, having been caught staring. 

Will clears his throat. “We should go outside.”

Hannibal sets the pan back on the stove and nods, following Will through the front door. 

Immediately, the sound of Alana's yelling fills the air. Will ignores her and sits down on the front step next to Abigail. She has a shock blanket around her shoulders, and isn’t handcuffed which is a really good sign. 

Abigail turns to look at Will as he sits, then looks back towards Jack and Alana, who are still arguing. Hannibal sits down next to him, using the limited space on the step as an excuse to sit close, Will knows that. 

“Can I talk to you guys in private? Not now, but soon?” Abigail asks quietly. 

“Of course,” Hannibal responds before Will can. “You are walking from this, yes?”

“Yeah. It was self defense,” Abigail says. 

“And Alana’s still yelling at Jack?” Will asks. “I mean, at least you’ve got people in your corner.”

“Yeah,” Abigail sighs. “Agent Crawford is firm in his belief that I helped my dad, but this doesn’t prove anything.” 

Jack turns and sees them sitting there and when Alana stops talking for a second, he says something to her and walks towards them. 

“Doctor Lecter, can I speak with you?” Jack asks. 

Hannibal stands. “Of course, Jack.”

Alana takes Hannibal’s place next to Will as Hannibal and Jack walk toward the middle of the driveway. 

“Why was Abigail alone?” Alana asks, no nonsense in her voice. 

“I was having a private conversation with Hannibal while he cooked. Abigail wanted to be alone for a few minutes. I figured she knows her own house and would be fine, but apparently Nicholas Boyle did more snooping than we thought,” Will shrugs. 

He doesn’t mention the fact that he and Hannibal weren’t actually talking and that Will was just pressed to his back while he cooked. 

Will realizes he used Hannibal’s first name instead of calling him Doctor Lecter like he normally would and hopes Alana didn’t notice. When she doesn’t say anything further on the topic, apparently too tired to argue any more about it, Will lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

He watches Hannibal and Jack speak, unable to hear either of their voices, but Jack seems to believe everything Hannibal says. The man is well-respected, an esteemed psychiatrist, and there’s no reason for him to seem suspicious. Will realizes he’s the perfect kind of serial killer, one that could fly under every single radar for years just as long as he doesn’t leave evidence. The way he acts, the company he holds, the money he has, keeps him from ever being a suspect. It’s genius. 

Will turns to Alana. “Did Jack say anything about us going home?”

“I didn’t let him get many words in.”

Will breathes out a laugh at that. 

Several minutes later, Jack and Hannibal come walking up to the three of them on the step and stop in front of them.

“We’re gonna put you guys in a hotel next to the airport and see about getting you guys on flights in the morning. Beverly’s been texting me about all of it,” Jack says and pulls out his phone. He reads a message and then continues, “We’ll probably have to split you up on separate flights because there are only two seats on each flight.”

“Abigail and I can take two, and Hannibal and Will can take two,” Alana interrupts. 

Will tries to not let anything show in his voice when he says, “That works for me. Abigail and Alana can leave on the first available if that’s okay with Doctor Lecter?”

Hannibal nods. “I do not need to be home to Baltimore for another few days. Are your dogs okay?”

Will nods. He had forgotten about the dogs. “My neighbor is watching them.”

“And, looks like the hotel only has two rooms available tonight. Hannibal and Will, you’ll have to share. Sorry,” Jack says. 

“That should be fine,” Hannibal answers. “What about you, Jack?”

“I’m staying around here. There’s a bit I have to take care of, still. You are all free to go.”

They collect their bags from different rooms of the house, Hannibal takes care of the food on the stove, and they all leave the house, leaving it to be picked through yet again by investigators. 

Hannibal and Will get into the back seat of the car and Alana navigates to the hotel. 

* * *

Hannibal watches Will go to the hotel desk to check them in, getting key cards for all of them. He checks his watch, much too early to take care of the stolen car, but he’ll have to do it sometime during the night. He’s glad Will knows about him and he won’t have to drug him to ensure he stays asleep. It would likely make him foggy for their flight, could raise suspicions. This will work out, and Will can provide an alibi if anyone asks. 

Will comes back and picks his bag up off the floor, where it had been sitting by Hannibal’s feet, and slings it over his shoulder. He hands Abigail and Alana their room keys, then hands Hannibal’s to his. Hannibal lets their fingers brush on the exchange and smirks when Will freezes. Hannibal goes on pretending like nothing happened as they go to the elevator.

“Since dinner was cut short, should we get settled and then eat at the restaurant attached to the hotel?” Hannibal asks. He pushes the button to his and Will’s floor, then Alana punches another number. 

“You guys go ahead, I’m not hungry anymore,” Alana says. 

“Abigail?” Will asks. 

“Yeah I’ll eat,” Abigail nods. 

“We’ll drop off our bags, then come to your room to get you,” Will tells her. “Ten minutes, maybe?”

Hannibal knows Abigail is going to tell them about her involvement with her father’s crimes, that’s why she asked to talk to them in private. He hopes the restaurant will be empty enough at this hour, well past the dinner rush, so she can tell them now. That way Hannibal can find the evidence and cover it up before the FBI finds it. Or find a way to justify it in a way that will keep her out of prison. Hannibal wants to see what she can become if she continues to walk free. 

The elevator opens and Hannibal and Will step out onto their floor, leaving Abigail and Alana behind. 

“I should warn you that I get nightmares, but I think I’ve told you that. I might wake you up,” Will says as they approach their door.

“You didn’t this morning,” Hannibal reminds him. 

“No, but it might still happen.” 

“I will consider myself warned,” Hannibal says. He slides the key into the door and pushes down on the handle, pushing the door open. 

Hannibal holds the door as Will walks in, then shuts it behind them. Will sets his bag down on one of the beds and Hannibal does the same with the other. 

“I need to tell you that I will be leaving sometime tonight to dispose of some evidence and return the car,” Hannibal says. He looks down at his bag as he says it. 

“Okay. Maybe wake me up before you go? Just so I know.”

“If you want,” Hannibal agrees. It’s a simple enough request. He looks down at himself. “I believe I should change my clothes.”

Hannibal hadn’t even realized he was still covered in blood. Oh, how that must have looked to everyone in the lobby. 

Opening his bag, he removes a sweater and a pair of slacks, then takes them to the bathroom to change and clean up some more of the blood from his skin. He’ll have to shower when they come back from dinner, but they told Abigail ten minutes, and he doesn’t want to make her wait. 

When he emerges, Will is sprawled out on his back on the bed Hannibal had set his own stuff on, a clear hint that Will wants to share. He climbs onto the bed and over Will’s body, holding himself up by hands on either side of Will’s face while he looks down into lovely blue eyes. 

“Hi,” Will smiles. 

“Hello.” Hannibal returns the smile, then leans down to press a kiss to Will’s lips. Before Will can react, Hannibal is hauling himself off the bed and grabbing one of Will’s hands to pull him up too. “We shouldn’t keep Abigail waiting.”

“No we should not,” Will agrees, but he wraps an arm around Hannibal’s waist and pulls him right to his chest. “Stop kissing me then running away like that.”

“Does it bother you?” Hannibal whispers. He brings his forearms to rest on Will’s shoulders. 

“Yes. It’s shockingly annoying.”

Hannibal doesn’t respond, just leans forward and kisses Will. When he pulls away, it’s slow, allowing for Will to chase after his lips. He doesn’t try to pull out of their loose embrace and lets Will take the first step away. 

“Will.” Hannibal stops him a foot from the door with a firm hand gripping his arm. 

“Hm?” Will turns to look at him. 

“I cannot be certain, but I believe Abigail is going to tell us of her involvement in her father’s crimes.”

“I assumed as much. We helped her come up with a plan to make sure she wouldn’t be convicted of murder. She trusts us,” Will shrugs. 

“Yes. That said, we mustn’t let on that we know Nicholas Boyle is not the man who killed those girls. She may trust us, but I am not willing to share this information about myself,” Hannibal says. 

“Hannibal. I am never going to tell anyone about you unless you give me a reason to do so.” 

Hannibal searches Will’s eyes for any sign of dishonesty, but he doesn’t come up with what he’s looking for. He releases Will’s arm and nods. 

They collect Abigail from her and Alana’s room and go down to the restaurant. Hannibal is relieved to see the restaurant is nearly empty. 

Abigail sits across from Hannibal and Will and they sit in silence while they look at the menu. Finally Abigail sets hers down and looks up at them. 

“Are you guys dating?” Abigail asks. 

Hannibal and Will look at each other, completely surprised by the question. Before they can think of an answer, Abigail continues. 

“I’m not going to tell anyone, don’t worry.” She looks back down at the menu. 

Hannibal opens his mouth to speak, but Will beats him to it. “We are. Is it that obvious?”

“No. While I was coming up the stairs earlier, you didn’t move away from Hannibal quick enough. The stairs in my house are built so I can see above the floor as I come up. I purposefully made noise after I saw so you wouldn’t be caught,” Abigail explains. 

“Right,” Will huffs. “I guess we’ll be more careful next time.”

Abigail shrugs. “Well, now you don’t need to hide it with me because I know. You _are_ hiding it, right?”

“Yes,” Hannibal says. He puts his hand over Will’s on the table. “There are people who see me as Will’s psychiatrist even though I am not. Some of our acquaintances will be unhappy with the nature of our relationship.” 

“Doctor Bloom and Agent Crawford?” Abigail asks. 

“Yeah,” Will responds. “Is this why you wanted to talk to us privately?”

“Oh. No, not exactly.” Abigail looks around the restaurant. “I, um, actually? I’d rather not talk about that in public.” 

Will leans forward across the table and lowers his voice. “If it’s about your involvement in your father’s crimes, we know. You can talk to us when you’re ready, but we’re here to help. We’re going to protect you, Abigail.”

Tears well up in Abigail’s eyes and she nods, then looks back down at her menu. Hannibal uses his free hand to reach across the table and put his hand over hers, a soothing gesture. 

“He means it, Abigail. We will do everything in our power to convince Jack of your innocence. Come to us when you are ready and I will cover up any and all evidence you can think of,” Hannibal says. 

“I wouldn’t even know where to start,” she laughs quietly. “What will they be looking for?”

“Receipts, plane or train tickets. He took girls from colleges, so if you were there on tour, they’ll look into that. Hotel rooms,” Will lists off. “Most of that stuff can be explained away, though. You can’t tell anyone you ever knew anything. Hannibal and I are the only people.”

“Will, you're FBI. Shouldn't you be… not helping me?”

Will shakes his head. “Whether you were an accomplice or not, your father destroyed your life by what he did. There’s no way any normal person can expect you to turn in your own father. Especially with what happened when he got the message we were coming.” 

“And Abigail,” Hannibal starts. “If, for some reason, we cannot help you, you cannot tell anyone at all that we were aware. If you do, we will not be able to continue helping.”

“What, you mean like, break me out of prison?” Abigail asks. 

Hannibal is about to say, _or fake your death,_ but the waiter comes up to the table to take their orders, effectively shutting down their conversation for the time being. 

They all sit up straight and pull their hands back into their own spaces while they order their food, and watch as the waiter takes their orders to the kitchen. 

When he’s out of earshot, Hannibal whispers, “If either of us catch wind that the FBI is on your tail, I believe we should be able to fake your death. I would be able to get you a new identity and you could go to school in another country, or stay in hiding in Baltimore, at my home. It would not be ideal, but it would ensure your freedom for the most part.”

Abigail nods, but doesn’t say anything. Hannibal knows it’s a lot to put on her, especially after killing Nick Boyle. 

While they wait for their food, Will drops his head into his hands on the table, rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands, then sits up straight to pull something out of his pocket. Hannibal watches as Will shakes two pills out of his bottle of aspirin and swallows them with his water. 

Hannibal frowns and lifts a hand to feel Will’s forehead. 

“I think you should see a doctor when you get home,” Hannibal murmurs. He pushes Will’s hair out of his eyes, then puts his hand on Will’s back instead, rubbing his hand up and down. Will relaxes into the touch. 

“Maybe. I’m sure I’m fine,” Will says. “Just a fever and headaches. I’ll get over it.”

Hannibal wonders how long it’ll be before Will is having worse symptoms, if this is encephalitis, as he suspects. If Will is too stubborn to go to the doctor for the physical symptoms, maybe he will for the mental ones. If Will thinks he is going crazy, maybe he’ll lean more heavily on Hannibal, needing him to the point that when Hannibal finally reveals (or when Will makes the connection between Hannibal and the Ripper by himself) how many people he has killed, Will would have no choice but to overlook it. 

It would be a subtle manipulation, one that he could easily lie his way through an explanation when Will inevitably finds out what’s going on. Hannibal decides he won’t direct Will to a neurologist until it starts to become noticeable to other people, too. 

This way, when other people start to notice, Hannibal can pretend he has only just noticed, as well. There would be no criticism about his lack of observation of Will’s stability. No one will ask how he didn’t think to intervene. If he uses Will’s sickness for his advantage any further than that, it’ll reflect poorly on him when Will completely loses himself. 

* * *

After dinner, they drop Abigail off at her room, then go back to their own. Will’s head is killing him, despite the aspirin he took, and he just wants to lay down and go to sleep. He dreads the early morning flight that Jack got them on. 

“I am going to take a shower,” Hannibal says. “There's still quite a bit of blood on me.”

Will nods and flops down on Hannibal’s bed, hoping his intention of sleeping next to Hannibal is clear. 

“I’ll take one after you,” Will tells him. Not that he wouldn’t mind taking one _with_ Hannibal, but he actually wants to get clean. He wants to sleep. And even though Hannibal has faith in his own immune system, Will still thinks it’s probably a bad idea to continue kissing him. Even just sleeping next to him could make him sick, but Will slept better in Hannibal’s arms earlier than he has in weeks. 

Hannibal disappears into the bathroom and Will hears the shower turn on. He reaches for the remote and flips through the TV channels until he finds Jeopardy. He turns the volume low, trying to help his head, but the ache persists. Maybe Hannibal is right and he should see a doctor. 

When Hannibal comes out, Will jolts awake, realizing he had started to doze off until he heard the bathroom door open. Hannibal comes out in just a towel and goes to his bag. Will averts his eyes when Hannibal drops the towel and pulls on a pair of underwear, and then a sweater, forgoing pants. 

“Shower in the morning, Will. You’ll fall asleep standing up if you do it now,” Hannibal says as he gets into the bed next to him. 

“Okay. As long as you don’t mind me smelling like I do,” Will says. He stands up from the bed and starts unbuttoning his flannel. 

“I don’t mind,” Hannibal confirms. 

Will strips down to his boxers and undershirt and gets into the bed besides Hannibal. 

“I didn’t even ask if we could share a bed,” Will frowns. “It’s okay, right?”

“Yes, it’s alright.”

“If I start kicking feel free to push me off the bed,” Will says. He turns off the lamp on the nightstand and plugs in his phone to charge. Then he turns off the TV and settles into his side of the bed. 

“You were a perfectly respectful bed partner this morning,” Hannibal whispers into the dark. 

“Still.”

Will rolls onto his side, facing away from Hannibal. He’s not sure how the other man would feel about him sleeping closer, if he’s okay with cuddling while they sleep. He seemed fine with it before, but Will hadn’t even asked. It’s weird to think that a killer would do something like that. 

His worries are put aside when an arm comes around his side and Hannibal presses himself into Will’s back. 

“Is this okay?” Hannibal asks. “If you would prefer to sleep on separate sides of the bed, that is fine, but I’d like to be close.”

Will’s breath catches in his throat and he swallows audibly. He whispers, “Yeah, yes. This is okay.” 

“Good,” Hannibal whispers. He presses his face into the back of Will’s neck and inhales. 

“Did you just smell me?” Will asks. 

“Yes.” 

The arm around Will’s waist tightens and Will relaxes his body into the contact. He knows he’s going to get too hot, he’ll start sweating. He’ll probably end up moving to the other bed in the middle of the night. 

“You said you were leaving?” Will remembers. 

“In a few hours,” Hannibal says into Will’s neck. “I’ll wake you before I go.”

“Okay.” 

Will falls back asleep, content to be held as he does. He dreams of his stream by his house. 

It’s peaceful until it’s not, until he hears heavy hooves in the dirt and turns to see a giant black stag, covered in feathers. Atop the stag’s antlers lay a girl, who appears to be Marissa Schurr. Will wades out of the stream and gets closer, only to find that the girl impaled on the stag’s head is Abigail Hobbs. 

Will’s mind is telling him that he put her there, that he killed her and placed her on the antlers to bleed out. Her blood runs down over the stags face, down to the ground and pools at his feet. It spreads to the edge of the stream, filling the water with red. 

He wakes up abruptly, sweat covering his entire body, breathing heavy. He tries to sit up, but he’s pinned in place by a strong arm. 

“You’re okay,” a voice murmurs. The arm around his waist holds him tighter and Will remembers he’s with Hannibal. It doesn’t help him relax at all. “I’ve got you, Will.”

His attempts to steady his breathing and calm his mind aren’t helping at all. Lips on the back of his neck, leaving light kisses, don’t help either. The arm around his waist isn’t doing any favors. 

“Let go of me,” Will says. The arm loosens immediately and Will is able to sit up finally. He sits on the edge of the bed, feet planted firmly on the floor, trying to ground himself. He drops his head into his hands, elbows resting on his knees. “Sorry. I just need a minute.” 

Hannibal sits up behind him and leans against the headboard. He turns on the lamp and the room is no longer filled with darkness. 

“What time is it?” Will asks. 

“Nearly 2.”

“When are you leaving?”

“I was going to get up at 2, but if you need me to stay here I should be fine pushing it back a bit. The car is not far. I just need to dispose of my supplies and change the plates back,” Hannibal tells him. “Then return it to where I found it, of course.”

“You shouldn’t return it. Too risky,” Will says. The subject is a welcome distraction from the nightmare he just woke up from. “You wore gloves, right?”

“Yes, there would be no evidence of myself in that car after I remove everything from it.”

Will nods. “Then don’t return it. Just make them think it was stolen and ditched.”

“Very well. If you think that would be best.”

“Yeah,” Will says. “And you can go now if you want. I’m going to take a shower while you’re gone.”

“Did you wish to talk about your nightmare?” Hannibal asks. 

Will turns back to face Hannibal, then moves closer and lays next to him. He rests his head on Hannibal’s thigh and Hannibal lifts a hand and seems to hesitate before putting it in Will’s hair. 

“It was nothing. I’m sorry I’m such a nutcase,” Will mumbles. 

“Nightmares are a normal response to trauma, Will.”

“But you shouldn’t have to worry about mine outside of therapy,” Will says. “I can’t ask that of you.”

“Will,” Hannibal says softly. “I knew what I was signing up for when I asked you to go on a date with me.”

“If it ever gets to be too much, I understand.”

“It won’t.”

“How can you be sure? If we continue seeing each other, this is going to be an every night thing. Can you really deal with me interrupting your sleep every time we share a bed?” 

Hannibal’s fingers move through Will’s hair, lightly massaging his scalp. It seems like an absent minded action, but Will can’t help but feel like nothing Hannibal does is absent minded. He seems so calculated about everything he does. 

“I require less sleep than most people. And if you recall, I was going to be waking up soon, regardless,” Hannibal whispers. “I enjoy your company, Will. I would like to pursue a relationship with you, and that means all of you. If you have nightmares every night and I never sleep again, I would just be content to lay by your side.”

Will scoffs, “You can’t mean that.” 

“I do.”

For some stupid reason, Will believes him completely. Hannibal moves his hand from Will’s hair to his back, and lets it rest between Will’s shoulder blades. Will feels safe again, the nightmare nearly forgotten. He can’t help but wonder if he’s just reflecting Hannibal’s calm mood, but he won’t complain. 

He does make a noise of complaint when Hannibal pats his back once and tells him he has to go, but Will just rolls onto his back and lets him up. He watches as Hannibal pulls on pants, and then a jacket. 

“I am leaving my cell phone here. I apologize that you will not be able to reach me if you need me, but-”

Will cuts him off. “I know. Tracking. It’s okay.”

Hannibal nods once and puts on his shoes. He gets to the door, then turns around and walks back to the bed. He leans down and kisses Will once before standing straight again. 

“I’m not kissing and running. It is simply a kiss goodbye,” Hannibal says. 

Will can’t help but laugh. “Don’t get caught.”

“I won’t.”

And with that, Hannibal leaves. 

Will rolls out of bed and strips off his sweaty shirt and underwear next to the bed. He goes into the bathroom, finds a towel, and steps into the shower. He turns the water cold to relieve some of the heat in his body and sighs under the spray. 

Hannibal left his shampoo, conditioner and body wash in the shower, and figuring he won’t care, Will uses them. He washes away the caked on sweat and stays under the spray until he feels like he can’t anymore.

Will steps out and towels off. He drops the towels on the bathroom floor and opens the bathroom door, stepping into the bedroom, figuring that since he’s alone he doesn’t need to worry about modesty. He freezes when the door opens and Hannibal steps into the hotel room right as Will starts walking toward his bag. 

“Sorry,” Will finally says and walks the rest of the way to his bag to find clothes. He can feel Hannibal’s eyes on his naked body the entire time. 

* * *

Hannibal inhales deeply and smells his shower products on Will from across the room. The sight of Will naked, skin glistening from the shower, hair still damp, the smell of himself on him, makes Hannibal’s pants feel infinitely tighter. 

Will goes to pull underwear out of his bag, but Hannibal steps close to him and grabs his wrist to stop him. He presses himself to Will’s back and feels the man shiver at the cold still left on Hannibal’s clothes from being outside. 

“You’re gorgeous, Will,” Hannibal whispers into the back of his neck. He inhales again, closer now. 

Will turns around and brings both hands to cup Hannibal’s cheeks, then leans forward to kiss him. Hannibal wraps his arms around Will’s waist and pulls him close. The kiss is soft and slow at first, but grows hungrier as the seconds tick by. Hannibal can feel Will’s cock hardening against his and pulls Will even closer to him, both of them groaning into each other’s mouths. 

“I feel severely overdressed,” Hannibal breathes when he pulls away. 

“What’s to be done about that?” Will asks. He moves his hands to push Hannibal’s jacket over his shoulders and Hannibal releases Will’s waist to take it off completely. 

Hannibal pulls his sweater over his head as Will starts at Hannibal’s belt and zipper. He pushes Hannibal’s pants and underwear down at the same time and Hannibal kicks off his shoes, then his pants, leaving everything in a messy pile on the floor. 

Then Will’s mouth is back on Hannibal’s as Will pushes him back towards the bed. Hannibal feels the mattress behind his legs and allows himself to sit. Will pulls away for a second to breath and Hannibal scoots back on the bed. Will follows after him, straddling Hannibal’s thighs where Hannibal sits. 

There’s still too much distance between them for Hannibal’s liking so he pulls Will down and forward by the hips so he’s fully sitting in Hannibal’s lap. Their cocks press together between their stomachs and Hannibal is fully hard now. Aching for the man on top of him.

Will’s lips are back on Hannibal’s in that instant. He pulls away from Will’s mouth for a second. He looks up into the wild blue eyes that stare down at him. Will’s cheeks are flushed a beautiful pink and he’s panting slightly. 

“You really are beautiful,” Hannibal murmurs. He presses a kiss to Will’s jaw and then his throat. 

Hannibal notices that Will ignores the compliment, just as he had the first one. He thinks he’ll have to ask about that in the future. He grazes his teeth over Will’s throat and bites lightly. 

Will slides back slightly, their cocks no longer trapped between their stomachs, but still lined up next to each other. He reaches down, fingertips grazing over Hannibal’s erection. Hannibal desperately wants Will to take them both in his hand, but Will stops and pulls his hand back, away from both of them.

“I, is this okay? You want this?” Will asks. 

“Yes. Very much, Will,” Hannibal says into Will’s neck. 

That’s all it takes before Will takes them both in hand and starts to stroke them both slowly. Hannibal lets out a low moan into the crook of Will’s shoulder and bucks his hips up into Will’s dry grip. Will pulls his hand away and Hannibal pulls his head from Will’s shoulder and almost growls, but stops when Will spits into his hand and brings it back. 

Hannibal grips Will’s hips and encourages him to thrust into his own grip and both men moan at the friction. Will’s hand moves faster, and Hannibal buries his face in Will’s neck again. He starts sucking a spot on Will’s throat before he can stop himself and when Will moans, he feels he has no choice but to continue. 

Will’s hand speeds up even more, his hips moving quicker and Hannibal knows he has to be close. He bites lightly into another spot on Will’s neck, sucking and leaving bruises across the skin. 

“I’m, ah, not gonna be able to- I can’t cover those up,” Will pants out between moans, referring to the bruises forming on the skin. “Someone will- ah fuck, someone’s gonna see them.” 

“Good,” Hannibal breathes. 

When Will comes, it’s with his head thrown back, and Hannibal’s name falling out of his mouth and that is enough to bring Hannibal over the edge, too. Will strokes them both through it, then pulls his messy hand away when it gets to be too much. 

Will lifts Hannibal’s chin with his clean hand and claims Hannibal’s mouth with his own. The kiss is soft and lazy and after a minute Will pulls away. 

“I’ll be right back,” he whispers and climbs out of Hannibal’s lap. Hannibal flops down onto the mattress and stares at the ceiling. 

He disappears into the bathroom and Hannibal can hear the sink running before Will comes back with a wet cloth. He’s already cleaned himself up and comes back to the bed to clean Hannibal. 

Will just drops the wet cloth on the floor and gets into bed, then pulls Hannibal up. Will sits against the headboard and pulls Hannibal to sit between his legs, up against his chest. Hannibal leans his head back onto Will’s shoulder and Will rubs his hands over Hannibal’s chest. 

“If you told me we’d be doing that that day we met, I’d have laughed in your face and stormed off,” Will laughs. 

“To be fair, I told you nothing of the sort and you still stormed off,” Hannibal says with a lazy smile. 

“Mm, yeah. You’re right.”

They sit like that in silence for a few minutes before Hannibal pulls himself out of Will’s arms to turn off the lamp on the bedside table. He settles back down and pulls a blanket up over them. 

Will’s chest is warm on his back, his skin feverish, not just warm from exertion. 

“How did your thing go?” Will asks. 

“Good. Everything is taken care of,” Hannibal answers. “What time is our flight?”

“9. We should leave here at 7:30. What time is it now?” 

“I got back around 3:30, I believe.” 

“So we have three hours to sleep, then,” Will says. 

“Yes. I think sleep would be wise for both of us,” Hannibal agrees. 

“I used your shower stuff, by the way. I hope that’s okay,” Will says. 

“Yes, more than okay,” Hannibal answers. 

Hannibal climbs out of Will’s arms and settles down on his side of the bed. Will lays down next to him and faces him. 

“Turn over,” Will whispers. 

Hannibal does as he’s told and Will presses up to his back, wrapping an arm around his waist. Much like how they were laying when Will had his nightmare, but the roles reversed. 

“Is this okay?” Will asks. He continues before Hannibal can answer, “I felt pinned in place earlier, like I was experiencing sleep paralysis earlier when I woke up with your arm holding me down. I… I enjoy being close, but I didn’t like feeling trapped after my nightmare. And I was hot and felt like I was suffocating. This way if I need to move, I can.” 

“I didn’t realize you felt that way, but I am glad you have told me. This is fine for me,” Hannibal responds. 

He had thought his grip on Will earlier would be a grounding point of contact, but he didn’t take into account that Will isn’t used to that much human contact. There’s a chance he woke up not remembering he was in bed with someone else, thinking his body wasn’t awake yet while his mind was. 

“It’ll probably be better for me once this fever breaks and I’m not so uncomfortable,” Will whispers. “Speaking of which, really, Hannibal. If we keep kissing each other, you’re going to get sick, too.”

“I have full faith in my-”

“Full faith in your immune system, I know, but everyone gets sick,” Will cuts him off. 

Hannibal can’t even find himself to be annoyed or mad at Will cutting him off so impolitely, in a mocking tone such as his. Hannibal knows it’s light hearted, but even so, if someone else talked to him like that he would certainly not tolerate it. 

“Get some sleep, Will,” Hannibal says. Will’s worries about him getting sick can be voiced at another time. Hannibal isn’t worried, he can’t catch the encephalitis. He’ll tell Will what the problem is eventually, he decides. Maybe sooner than originally planned. 

He finds himself thinking about it while he drifts off to sleep. 

* * *

Will wakes up to the sound of a knock on their door and rolls over to check his phone. It’s 6:00. Too early to get up. He turns back to Hannibal, hoping whoever is at their door will just leave, and wraps his arm back around the sleeping man to try and get a bit more sleep before his alarm is supposed to go off. 

There’s another knock and Hannibal starts to stir. 

“Are you going to get that?” Hannibal asks, accent thicker from sleep. 

“No.”

Then Will’s phone starts ringing and Alana’s contact shows up.

“It’s Alana,” Will says. “Shit.”

He accepts the call. “Yeah?”

“I have a few items from the car for you and Hannibal. We’re leaving soon and I’ll have to return the car.”

“Right, yeah. Give me a minute.”

Will jumps out of bed and picks up a pair of underwear and a shirt off the floor, pulling them both on. He messes up the blankets on the other bed to look like it was slept in. 

“Will,” Hannibal says and Will turns to look at him. 

Hannibal is getting out of bed already and is pulling on clothes himself, and gestures to his own neck and Will remembers last night, remembers the bruising kisses and bites Hannibal had left. 

He wishes in that moment he had one of those scarves Abigail wears to hide her scar.

“I’ll get the door,” Hannibal says. “You go get properly dressed in the bathroom.” 

Will nods and takes his entire bag into the bathroom, not having time to find something. He hears Hannibal open the door and Alana’s voice, but can’t hear the words spoken. 

He looks in the mirror and examines the marks on his skin. He’ll have to get some makeup to cover them up when he goes back to work. He’s extremely lucky that Alana is on an earlier flight than them and that he won’t have to see her this morning, but that was a very close call. 

The hotel room door closes again and there’s a knock on the bathroom door.

“She’s gone, Will.” 

Will opens the door, still not dressed yet, just in the underwear and shirt (which he realizes is the sweater Hannibal discarded earlier) he went in wearing. 

“That was close. No more marks if we’re gonna successfully hide this,” Will says firmly. 

“This morning would have been difficult to lie about, but in the future you could always just say you are seeing someone and that you aren’t telling anyone,” Hannibal shrugs. “I cannot promise I won’t mark you again.”

“People are going to think I have some secret girlfriend,” Will mumbles. “Or that I gave these to myself to make it look like I have a girlfriend.”

Hannibal smiles. “Get dressed. Let’s get breakfast downstairs. There’s a shuttle from the hotel to the airport, so we will not need to call a cab.”

Will nods and leaves the door open as he brushes his teeth and pulls on comfortable clothes for the flight. Hannibal dresses in one of his three piece suits. 

“Am I coming over for dinner tonight?” Will asks as Hannibal brushes his teeth. 

Hannibal spits into the sink and wipes his mouth with a towel. “If you’d like. Or I can come over and cook at your house if you’d like to get your dogs home and settled in tonight.”

“Actually, that’s a good idea,” Will decides. “You can drive me home, I’ll get the dogs from my neighbor’s and then we can go to the grocery store together? Unless you want to go home for a bit.” 

“Yes, I think I’ll go home just to change my clothes. I may have some meat in my freezer that I could bring back.”

They pack up their bags and leave them in the room while they go downstairs to get breakfast at the hotel’s restaurant. 

The waiter eyes the bruises at Will’s neck and Will pretends nothing is out of the ordinary. He can see Hannibal’s faint smile. 

When they finish breakfast, they go up to their room again and make sure they have everything before collecting their bags and going downstairs to wait for the airport shuttle. Will reaches out and grabs onto Hannibal’s hand while they wait, happy that Alana is gone and they won’t have to hide for the rest of the day. 

The airport is busy, they have to wait in line to check in and check their suitcases. The security line is even longer, wrapping around the entire roped off area. Will holds tight to Hannibal’s hand the entire time and hopes that none of the other FBI agents are on their flight or at the airport at the same time as them. 

Will isn’t too worried about someone like Beverly finding out, but there’s always the chances that she’ll tell Jack. Freddie Lounds flashes through Will’s mind too, and he wonders if Freddie could be in Minnesota right now. Surely she’d have heard about Marissa Schurr and Nick Boyle by now. Maybe she’s already here. Will doesn’t falter in his grip on Hannibal’s hand, though. 

Once they get through security, Will releases some of the tension he didn’t know he was holding. 

“Coffee?” Will asks. Hannibal nods and they walk to the Starbucks across from the TSA checkpoint. They both order black coffee and Hannibal pays before Will can even get his wallet out. 

Will figures that is how it’s going to be now. 

At the gate, they settle into seats next to each other and wait for the gate agent to call their zone to board. Somehow the seats left on the plane were actually next to each other and Will is grateful. 

Hannibal lifts a hand to Will’s forehead, and Will thinks he should be annoyed by that at this point, but he finds that he can’t be. Hannibal frowns just as he has every other time he’s done it. 

“Besides the nightmares have you been experiencing anything else? Hallucinations? Lack of coordination?” Hannibal asks. 

Will freezes at the word hallucinations. He really hopes he isn’t going crazy. “No, why?”

“Just going through a possible list of ailments in my head. I do smell something on you, but I cannot be certain without the other symptoms,” Hannibal says quietly. “Please do keep me updated if anything changes.”

“I, yeah. Okay. You don’t think it’s just the flu?” 

Hannibal shakes his head. “No, but it’s too hard to tell. We’ll see how it progresses.”

Will isn’t sure if he should be relieved or not that he has a doctor- boyfriend? Partner? Is it too soon to label it? Will wants to ask, but before he can, their zone is called to board and Hannibal stands, offering a hand to Will to pull him out of his seat. 

They board the plane, shove their bags under the seat, and Hannibal sits in the window seat, with Will next to him in the middle. A man sits on Will’s left and immediately puts his headphones on. 

Hannibal lifts the armrest between them and Will settles into his side, resting his head on Hannibal’s shoulder. He lets himself doze off when the plane finally takes off. He wakes up periodically, looks up at Hannibal’s face. He’s awake, watching a show on the screen in front of him. Will falls back asleep with a smile on his face each time.

When the pilot announces they’ll be touching down at Dulles in twenty minutes, Will finally decides to actually wake up. He sits up straight, but holds Hannibal’s hand in the space between them. 

It takes another twenty minutes to get to a gate by the time they land and by then, Will is anxious to get home and see his pack. Anxious to have Hannibal come over for dinner tonight. It’ll be nice to get home and not have to worry about any cases for a while until Jack gets back. 

They shuffle off the plane and Will’s excitement for what’s to come grows steadily, even more while they wait at baggage claim, and keeps growing when they get to Hannibal’s Bentley and start driving to Will’s house in Wolf Trap.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me longer than normal because I was out of town this past weekend, but I’m hoping to get back on somewhat of a quicker upload schedule. No promises on that, though. 
> 
> **Apologies in advance for mistakes, I’ll fix them eventually, I just wanted to get this out.

Hannibal can feel the anticipation radiating off of Will the entire car ride to Wolf Trap. He reaches over and rests his right hand on Will’s thigh while he steers with his left. Will looks down at the hand, then out the window. Hannibal thinks Will blushes, or else his periphery is playing tricks on him. 

The car ride is spent in a comfortable silence between them, the sound of classical music playing quietly on the radio being the only sound. Hannibal doesn’t mind. They’ll have time to talk during dinner, and perhaps after. 

Will hasn’t asked many questions about Hannibal being a killer, and Hannibal is certain it’s because they’ve barely had much time alone where a conversation such as that would be a good use of the meager time they did have. Now, however, they have all the time in the world to know each other, see each other. 

Part of Hannibal wants to tell Will all that he has done, tell him that he is the Ripper, among others. Another part of Hannibal wants to let Will figure it out on his own, with gentle prodding from Hannibal in the correct direction. A third part of him knows that he shouldn’t let Will know anything more than he does and that he should kill him the second Will finds out more. 

He ignores that third part, an intrusive thought that he won’t act on. Hannibal is keen on self preservation, but a life without Will does not seem pleasant. He sees Will as a potential partner in more ways than one.

It comes down to the first two parts. Hannibal wonders if he should tell Will over dinner tonight, but when they pull up to Will’s house in Wolf Trap, the look Will gives him makes him want to hold out just a little bit longer. Those beautiful eyes, filled with so much appreciation. If Hannibal tells him now, tonight, there’s no certainty that those eyes will continue to look at him with appreciation. It would more likely turn into fear. 

Will leans across the center console and presses a quick kiss to Hannibal’s lips before unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the door. Hannibal grabs his wrist at the last second and pulls him back for another, earning a quiet moan when he sucks Will’s bottom lip between his own two. It takes all his restraint not to climb over the space between them and into Will’s lap. _Later._ He tells himself. 

Hannibal pulls back, then. Will looks at him from under his bangs, lips still slightly parted, breathing quickened. It’s a gorgeous sight and he has to clear his throat and look away. Will affects him like no one else ever has and it’s a strange feeling. 

“Thank you for the ride,” Will says after a moment. “What time should I expect you?” 

Hannibal checks the clock in his car. “It’s an hour both ways, I will likely shower and change my clothes, then start a load of laundry… although I could start my laundry when I return home, instead. It’s nearly 2 now… would 5:30 or 6 be agreeable?”

“Sure,” Will nods. He goes to the trunk to pull out his suitcase and carry-on bag. Hannibal watches him through the rearview mirror and follows his movement back around the car. 

Will stops outside Hannibal’s door and Hannibal rolls down his window, looking at Will expectantly. 

“I have next to no food in my house, I’m sure. Did you want me to get a few things after I pick up the dogs? Or we could go grocery shopping together,” Will says. 

“We can go together, if you’d like,” Hannibal smiles. 

“Yeah. We can do that. I’ll see you later, then.”

Will turns around then and heads towards his front door, pulling his keys from his pocket as he takes the steps up the porch. Hannibal puts his car back in gear and leaves, heading home to Baltimore. 

The entire time he thinks of how he can gently suggest to Will that he’s the Chesapeake Ripper without actually telling him. The most obvious plan is to start a new sounder, as Will so graciously named them. It’s been years, though. Nearly two since he took Miriam Lass hostage. 

There’s been talk that the Ripper has retired, or that he may be in prison due to other crimes, and killing again would put those suspicions to rest. 

He would need to talk to Will though… learn more about the profile the FBI has built on him, learn what Will thinks of the displays he’s left before. Then he would need to use those conversations, in a way that Will would start connecting their conversations to the scenes in the same way Hannibal will purposefully connect them. Things that no one else would know about Will besides Hannibal himself. 

Hannibal decides he is prepared to play the long game with this one. A sounder now to get Will on the case, as he wasn’t officially before, having not been consulting with the FBI when Hannibal was active as the Ripper last. Then, conversations. Another sounder would follow those conversations, to ensure Will makes those connections. 

He thinks of it the entire way home, how he’ll start this. Not for another few weeks, perhaps. It may raise suspicions if they start popping up the second the BAU comes back from Minnesota. It would give him ample time to prepare, choose victims, learn their routines, plan a dinner party even. 

When Hannibal arrives home and gets in the shower, he thinks of the dinner party that would be to come. 

A dinner party that he would certainly invite Will to, and should Will actually attend, he would have two secrets from his guests that would bring him great amusement. The fact that he would be feeding them all human meat, and the fact that none of them are aware of he and Will’s new relationship. No one would have a single clue just how close the two men are. He has Will all to himself. 

He enjoys playing games with his colleagues, and this is just one more thing that he gets to blind them about. As much as he would enjoy parading Will around on his arm, showing him off, he will also find amusement in Jack Crawford having absolutely no idea. Or Alana Bloom, either. 

That makes him wonder how Will would feel about a public relationship outside of their work. Hannibal’s own acquaintances at the opera or other functions would not be aware that Will is technically his patient. He would like to take Will out on dates if at all possible, even if it means going out of town for the weekend to do so, just so they aren’t seen by anyone that could have a problem with them. 

One day, when they are further removed from a professional relationship with each other, when no one can assume that they were together at the time Hannibal cleared Will for work in the field, then they can tell people. Until then, the timing isn’t ideal. Especially if Will is slowly slipping into madness with the possibility of the encephalitis, it would be too easy to ruin Hannibal’s life for rubber stamping a romantic partner. Even if they weren’t together at the time, it would be too difficult to prove. 

Hannibal thinks about all this while he stands under the water in his shower, while he changes into a clean suit, free of wrinkles. When he opens his Rolodex and finds the business card belonging to the person he’ll want as the first Ripper victim nearly two years. 

After nearly two hours at home, he gets back in his car and drives back to Will. 

* * *

The second Hannibal leaves, Will throws his bags into his living room and gets in his own car to head to his nearest neighbor’s farm. The dogs all pile into the back of the car, beyond excited to see him again. 

They get home and Will lets them roam around outside while he unpacks his bags and puts everything into the washing machine. He goes into the bathroom and realizes he still has the sweater on from that morning. Hannibal never even mentioned it to him the entire morning. 

He brings the collar up to his nose, inhaling the lingering scents of Hannibal. _Soon._ He reminds himself and drops the collar back into place. 

The bruises littering his neck have been on display all day, through the airports, on the flight. Some of them are too high to cover with a button up collar, and he thinks he may have to cover them with makeup. Or let everyone see them. 

He smiles at the thought of everyone wondering where they came from, who this mystery person is, and how they caught the attention of the grouchy and elusive Will Graham. A secret for him and Hannibal only. 

Part of him wants to tell everyone that he managed to snag Doctor Hannibal Lecter. The other part of him wants to keep Hannibal all to himself and never tell a single soul. He knows eventually, that kind of relationship won’t be able to sustain itself, but he will enjoy it for as long as he can. 

He calls the dogs inside, feeds them, then takes off his pants and lays down on his bed. He got subpar sleep the night before and rest on an airplane isn't really sleeping either. With nothing else to do between now and the time Hannibal comes back, he lets the dogs pile on the bed with him and he curls up for a nap. 

Sometime later he wakes up to pounding on his door and groans as he stretches in bed. The dogs jump to the floor and run to bark at whoever is here. He checks his phone and it’s too early for Hannibal to be back. He frowns, then gets up and walks to the door. 

Alana Bloom is on the other side. 

“Hi!” Alana says cheerfully. 

Will rubs at his eyes. “What are you doing here?” He tries to make it sound as polite as possible, but he doesn’t feel that way. He just wants to take his nap and have his dinner with Hannibal later, but instead he has to entertain Alana. Who he just spent several days with. 

She eyes his neck and he watches as her gaze goes down his chest. Will swears inwardly at Hannibal for marking him so much. How is he possibly going to explain hickeys _and_ Hannibal’s sweater?

Thankfully she doesn’t comment on either. “I wanted to talk to you about Abigail.” 

Will frowns again. “Now? I was asleep. I’m sorry, Alana, I’ve been feeling sick for days and I really do not feel like getting into anything right now. I just got home.” 

“Too sick to talk to me, but not too sick to go out and hook up with someone at some point in the last fourteen hours?”

Will can’t believe her boldness, can’t believe she actually went there. He’s just glad she does not seem to know that it was Hannibal. 

“I am sure you know that is hardly your business, Alana,” Will scoffs. “My personal life is none of your concern, and whatever you need to talk about can wait until I am back at Quantico on Monday.”

“That’s four days away!”

“Whatever it is,” Will says again. “Can wait until Monday.” 

Will starts to push his door closed. His head is pounding and he wants to go back to sleep. 

Just before he can shut the door completely, Alana speaks loud and clear, “I think Abigail Hobbs played a role in her father’s crimes.”

Will sighs and opens the door again, but he still doesn’t let Alana come inside. “Why are you talking to me and not Jack Crawford, then?”

“Because I don’t know for sure,” Alana says. “And if I ask her, it’s not as though I can tell Jack. It would break confidentiality.”

“Again, why talk to me about it?”

“She trusts you, Will.”

“You want me to get it out of her? Fuck, Alana. Even if she trusts me, I don’t see why she would tell me something incriminating.” 

“You could try,” Alana suggests. 

_Fuck no._ “I can try,” he lies. “Sorry, I’ve been rude. I’ll see what I can do about Abigail, but really, I feel like shit and just want to go back to bed.”

“I shouldn’t have dropped by unannounced, it’s my fault,” Alana says apologetically. “Get some rest, Will.”

He waits to close the door again until Alana’s back down the front steps. 

With a sigh of relief, he falls back down onto his bed and falls back asleep. 

* * *

Hannibal stands outside Will’s door and knocks once. He can hear a cacophony of dogs barking inside, then Will’s voice yelling at them to shut up. 

The door opens a second later and he takes in the sight of Will in his sweater and a pair of boxers, marks scattered across his neck. His hair is wild, his eyes are tired as though he’s just woken up. Hannibal’s heart melts. 

“Hello. Did I wake you?” Hannibal asks. 

Will let out a strained sigh. “Yeah, but that’s what I was planning for.”

He steps out of the doorway to let Hannibal inside and the dogs go running out. Hannibal turns and looks at them go, then looks at Will, who is not at all concerned that his dogs could run away, and he realizes that it’s normal. 

“Come in,” Will says. 

Hannibal remembers how his feet work again and walks into the house. 

“I brought some meat from my freezer, as well as a bottle of wine, but if you’d like to put some pants on, we can go to the market,” Hannibal says. 

“Yeah,” Will nods. “Kitchen is through there.” 

Will points to a doorway and then goes to the opposite end of his living room to his drawers. 

Hannibal sets the meat in the fridge and sees what else Will has in there. Nothing. 

Back in the living room, Hannibal watches from the doorway as Will pulls pants over his hips, then lets the too-large sweater fall back into place. 

“You didn’t tell me I still had your sweater on this morning,” Will says. 

“I didn’t want you to take it off,” Hannibal shrugs. “It looks nice on you.”

Will hums, but doesn’t say anything in response to the compliment. Instead he changes the subject entirely. 

“Alana came to see me. Woke me up to tell me she thinks Abigail was helping her father,” Will scoffs. “I nearly told her to fuck off when she said, and I quote ‘too sick to talk to me, but not too sick to hook up with someone in the last fourteen hours.’ I mean, how bold is that? She wouldn’t even be alone in a room with me before all of this and now…”

Will trails off, shaking his head. Hannibal thinks about which part of Will’s story he should comment on first. Of course, what Alana had said _was_ quite rude. He wishes he could have a word with her without outing Will and himself as a couple. 

“What did she say about Abigail?” Hannibal asks first. 

Will laughs once. It sounds more like a bark, really. “She wants me to get Abigail to confess so I can tell Jack. Because anything Alana gets out of her can’t be repeated.” 

“And you told her?”

“I told her I’d try. I’m not telling anyone shit, though,” Will says. 

Hannibal nods, satisfied with that answer. “Alana commented on your neck, then. In not so many words.”

“I’m pretty sure she thinks I either left the hotel room to get laid, or I brought someone back to our room while you were there. I wonder if she’s going to ask you about it.”

“And yet it has not crossed her mind that the person who gave you those marks was the person who was already supposed to be with you all night.” Hannibal finds this extremely amusing. 

“Pretty sure she thinks I’m straight,” Will shrugs. “Anyways, should we go?” 

Hannibal steps away from the kitchen door frame and approaches Will. 

“If you are straight, then that would be rather unfortunate for myself. And it would also be news to me,” Hannibal says. He can’t help but smile when Will laughs. Hannibal stops in front of Will and tilts Will’s chin upwards with his fingertips. “But yes, we should go.”

Hannibal brushes their lips together as he says it, then steps away. Will goes to the front door and calls all of the dogs in, then puts on a pair of shoes and slides a jacket on over his borrowed sweater. 

Will offers to drive so they get into his car and head to the nearest grocery store. Hannibal picks out other ingredients for dinner and Will gets some groceries for the rest of the week.

Back in the car, Alana calls Hannibal. 

“Hello Alana,” Hannibal answers. 

“Hannibal,” she says as a greeting. “I stopped by your house but you weren’t home.”

“Ah, you just missed me. Unfortunately I am on my way to have dinner with a colleague,” Hannibal lies. He glances over at Will in the driver’s seat and the man is smiling as he changes lanes. 

“Well, I won’t keep you long then,” Alana says. “I was just going to tell you that I stopped by Will’s today and he was rather rude when I tried telling him about some concerns I have about Abigail.” 

“Oh, I am so sorry to hear that, Alana,” Hannibal lies. “I know he hasn’t been feeling well as of late, so I would not take it personally if I were you.”

“He told me the same thing, but what am I supposed to believe when his neck is covered in hickeys? Did he go out last night?” Her tone sounds almost… jealous. 

Hannibal glances over at Will, completely unsure how to handle this. He sighs. “Yes, but I do not believe that it is either of our business how he chooses to spend his personal time.” 

“Right,” Alana says, defeated. There’s a pause. “I’ll let you go then. Bye, Hannibal.”

“Goodbye, Alana.” Hannibal hangs up the phone. 

“She called to gossip?” Will asks. 

“So it would seem. I had to tell her that you went out last night.”

“Yeah, I suspected,” Will sighs. “It’s been, what? Three days? And we’ve already lied to her how many times?”

“I have no qualms about lying to Alana, Will.” 

“You’ve known her for a long time,” Will points out. 

Hannibal shrugs. “Again, it doesn’t bother me.”

Will just nods and keeps his eyes on the road. 

* * *

Back home, Will leans against a wall and watches Hannibal in the kitchen, but he doesn’t help with any cooking. He’s too mesmerized by the way Hannibal’s hands move with a knife to move from where he leans against the counter. 

“So,” Will starts once he rips his attention away from Hannibal’s fingers. “How is this going to work, anyways? If we go out in the area someone we know might see us.”

“I did think about this, yes,” Hannibal says with a nod. He sets his knife down on the cutting board in front of him and gives Will his full attention. He continues, “Of course, I would always be willing to just cook you dinner and walk your dogs with you, and stay out of public, but… There are places I’d like to take you; museums, the opera, different restaurants, other events. I would not be against telling my friends in those circles about us. I don’t believe we would have to worry about our colleagues seeing us at many of those places. Of course, I’m being presumptuous in saying you’d like to continue seeing each other.”

“Well, no shit I want to continue seeing each other. Would I have asked otherwise?”

“I suppose not. Still,” Hannibal says and shrugs. 

Will cannot believe the amount of insecurity in Hannibal’s words. There’s no way something like this could bring forth feelings such as that for Hannibal. He could have anyone in the world, but he’s worried Will isn’t going to stick around past a few dates. Unbelievable. Will feels like he should be the insecure one.

“I’m not saying that whatever this is,” Will gestures between them to show what he means. “Is going to work out long term, but I want to see what happens? Take it a few days at a time for now.”

Hannibal hums in response and goes back to his chopping. “I’d like that, too,” he says quietly. 

“I, uh,” Will starts. He takes a breath and tries again. “Would you be honest with me? If I ask you questions about…”

“Murder?” Hannibal supplies. 

Will breathes out a laugh. “Yeah. Murder.” 

“Are you wearing a wire?”

“What? No. Of course not.”

“Very well. After dinner, then,” Hannibal decides. 

Will nods and pours himself a glass of the wine Hannibal brought. He decides to leave Hannibal to do his cooking and goes to sit down in front of his TV in the living room. 

Some time later, Hannibal comes out to tell Will that dinner is ready and they sit down at the kitchen table together. The food is amazing, Will tells Hannibal as much and Hannibal beams at him. 

They don’t say much, with the promise of discussing Hannibal’s kills looming over their heads. After dinner, Hannibal gathers all of the plates and brings them to the sink, insisting on washing them himself.

“I’ll dry, at least. It’s my house,” Will says as he takes a freshly washed plate from Hannibal’s hands. “Thanks for cooking.”

“Of course, Will,” Hannibal says with a smile. “I will cook for you every night if you just ask.”

“That’s rather enticing.”

They finish the dishes and each pour another glass of wine before moving into the living room and sitting down on opposite ends of the couch. Will sighs then scoots closer, but stops and looks at Hannibal, questioning. 

Hannibal lifts an arm up so Will can settle into his side, so Will goes. Will drinks his entire glass in several gulps and then sets his glass down on the coffee table. He pulls his feet up on the couch to the side of him and rests more firmly into Hannibal’s body. 

“So, you’ll answer anything I want to ask?” Will asks. 

“I will not lie, but I reserve the right to not answer any question.” 

“Fine,” Will says with a nod. “How many people have you killed?”

“Jumping right into it, I see. I will not be answering that one today. In the future, when you see all of me, I shall tell you, but for now I will just say that it’s more than just Cassie and Marissa,” Hannibal answers. 

“I figured,” Will mumbles. “What did you do with Cassie’s lungs? Did you eat them like Hobbs? Wait.” Will pauses, then it dawns on him, “Did _I_ eat them?” 

“I suppose you weren’t given your job for no reason,” Hannibal sighs. “Yes. The protein scramble. Does this bother you?”

 _Not as much as it should,_ Will thinks. “Sort of…” He says instead. “What did we eat tonight?”

“Someone who was quite rude to me,” Hannibal whispers. “You have figured that part out, so if you want me to feed you strictly animal meat, I will.” 

Will shakes his head. He’s starting to feel the effects of all the wine he’s drank tonight. He knows he’s not entirely in the right state of mind to consent to eating _human beings,_ but he still says, “All your food is good. Either we eat it, or it goes to waste?”

“I suppose. Or it stays frozen until my next dinner party.” 

“Is that why you have dinner parties? Because you’ve killed enough people and taken enough… meat to feed everyone?” Will asks. 

“Yes,” Hannibal breathes. 

Will stands up abruptly, deciding he needs another drink or seven for this conversation. He takes a second to steady himself after having more than enough wine. 

“Will?” Hannibal asks. There’s caution in his voice, it’s a question asking whether he should run or not. His body is on alert as he sits up straight on the couch. 

Will shakes his head and walks across the room to where he keeps his bottles of liquor. “I need another drink.”

He pours one glass, drinks it all, then looks at the bottle again. He knows he’ll regret the decision in the morning, but he has other things to worry about, much worse than a possible hangover. 

Hannibal relaxes again as Will pours himself another glass of whiskey and comes back to the couch. Will doesn’t settle back into Hannibal’s side, sitting with a cushion between them, but pulls one knee up so he can face him more comfortably. 

“I’m making a mistake, aren’t I?” Will asks quietly. 

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Dating you. You could kill me right now, couldn’t you? Would you even feel anything about it?”

“I don’t wish to kill you, Will,” Hannibal says. He reaches across the couch and takes the now half empty glass from Will’s hand. He sets it down on the coffee table, out of Will’s reach and Will knows that's for the best. 

Will nods at Hannibal’s response, only slightly reassured. Hannibal leans toward Will, and pushes his hair out of his eyes. Will shuts his eyes and leans into the touch, mentally chastising himself for being so trusting. 

He takes a breath, then moves across the couch so he can settle across Hannibal’s lap sideways. Hannibal makes a noise of surprise, but his arms don’t hesitate to come around Will’s waist. 

“Knowing… what I know,” Will starts. “That makes me an accomplice, doesn’t it?”

“No one has any reason to believe you know anything. No one knows we are together in this moment discussing this topic,” Hannibal explains, his voice quiet. “This is another reason why keeping our relationship a secret could benefit us. You, mostly.”

“You’re saying that if you get caught, I should just say I don’t know anything?” 

“Yes. And if they have no reason to believe we’re involved romantically, then there’s no reason for you to know any of the things I have told you,” Hannibal whispers into Will’s neck.

Will hums in response, but doesn’t think he can come up with a coherent answer to that. It’s getting late, anyways, and he decides the rest of the conversation can wait for another day. He doesn’t know what else he wants to ask Hannibal about, but he knows he needs to figure it out. 

They sit like that in silence, the only sounds are their breathing and the dogs’ breathing scattered across the room. 

“I should go soon,” Hannibal says after a while. 

Will shakes his head. He pulls away from where he leans against Hannibal’s body and kisses him lightly. He turns his body so he’s straddling Hannibal’s hips and kisses him more soundly before saying, “You can stay. You should. Stay.” 

“You’re drunk, Will.” Hannibal’s hands settle on Will’s thighs and Will knows he wants to push him off, but he makes no attempt to actually do so. 

“Not very, but if that’s your only problem,” Will sighs and climbs out of Hannibal’s lap. He sits down on the couch next to him and turns his head, laughing at the thoughts that go through his head. “Of course you're the perfect gentleman, aren't you? You murder people and eat them, but I’ve had too much to drink and you don’t want to take advantage of me.”

Hannibal nods. There’s nothing on his face that Will can see, no emotions pouring out of him. 

“You can stay. It’s too late to drive home and I have enough room in my bed, you know. Make breakfast for me in the morning because I know how bad you want to.” 

Hannibal puts a hand on Will’s knee and sighs. “I am going to get you a glass of water, and I will sleep in your bed next to you and make you breakfast in the morning,” he agrees. 

* * *

Will gets up from the couch and Hannibal watches as he tries to keep himself steady. Hannibal stands up and watches as he stumbles towards his bed, kicks off his pants, sets his glasses on his nightstand, and falls down onto the mattress, still wearing Hannibal’s sweater. 

Hannibal goes into the kitchen and finds a glass, filling it with water, then shuts off all the lights. He hears Will in the other room standing back up and opening the front door, calling for the dogs to go out before bed. Hannibal finds Will standing on the porch, leaning against the house as the dogs run in the yard. 

“Drink this,” Hannibal says, handing him the glass of water. 

“Thanks.” 

The dogs get called inside and curl up in their own beds on the floor and Will grabs Hannibal by the hand to pull him into the house. 

“Did you want some pajama pants?” Will asks. “Or a shirt?”

“A shirt,” Hannibal says with a nod. 

Will goes to his dresser as Hannibal starts to undress down to his underwear. 

“It might be tight on you,” Will shrugs and hands Hannibal a long sleeve shirt.

“You could always give me my sweater back,” Hannibal jokes. It looks better on Will, in his opinion. He pulls the shirt on over his head as Will begins to speak. 

“I forgot I was wearing it. You can have it back, sorry,” Will mumbles and goes to pull it off, but Hannibal stops him.

“It’s yours now.” 

Will shakes his head, but doesn’t protest beyond that and gets into bed, Hannibal following suit and climbing into the other side. 

“If I have a nightmare, or start kicking, wake me up and I’ll go sleep on the couch,” Will says. 

“We’ll be just fine, Will.”

Hannibal turns in his side to face Will and reaches out to feel his warm forehead. Will leans into the touch, then rolls over and pushes Hannibal to lay on his back so Will can lay his head on Hannibal’s shoulder, pressing their bodies together, wrapping an arm around his waist. Hannibal knows that Will sees this as a good thing for himself, and he wonders if he should actually take advantage of the inflammation in his brain or not. Hannibal thinks what they have going on is a good thing, too. He thinks he doesn’t want to ruin it.

After laying in that position for several long minutes, the silence between them suggests that Will has fallen asleep, but then Will’s hand starts to move and his fingers are walking in circles on Hannibal’s stomach. 

“Is it bad that I don’t care?” Will whispers.

“Hm?”

“I don’t care that you’re a serial killer,” Will clarifies. “Why not? Why don’t I hate you?” 

Hannibal brings a hand to rest in Will’s curls and sighs. “Maybe this is a conversation for the morning?” 

“Maybe,” Will yawns. “Okay. Goodnight, Hannibal.”

“Goodnight, Will.” 

Hannibal wakes up to Will thrashing in his sleep, breathing heavily and he loosens the arm he has around Will’s back. Suddenly Will moves to sit up, and his hand collides hard with Hannibal’s chest as he attempts to push himself up. Hannibal groans in pain and Will turns, eyes wide with surprise. 

“Shit, sorry,” Will breathes out. He takes a few deep breaths, and Hannibal sits up next to him, placing a hesitant hand on his sweaty back. Will relaxes under the touch and Hannibal rests his hand a bit more firmly. Will adds, “I’ll go sleep on the couch.” 

“No, you won’t.” 

“Hannibal,” Will sighs. “You need to sleep.”

“If you recall, one of my conditions for staying the night was that I would be sleeping next to you,” Hannibal whispers. He leans over and presses a kiss to Will’s sweaty forehead. “Did you want to shower? Or at least take off this sweater. You’re overheated.”

Will pulls the sweater over his head and tosses it on the floor, then Hannibal leans over him, grabbing the empty water glass from the nightstand and goes to the kitchen to fill it back up. 

“You don’t need to take care of me like this,” Will mumbles, taking the glass when Hannibal returns. “I’m usually alone.”

“And now you aren’t. It’s fine, Will.” And it really is, Hannibal realizes. “Did you want to shower?” Hannibal asks again.

Will shakes his head, sets the cup down on his nightstand again and lays back down. 

“Did you want to talk about your nightmare?”

Will curls back into Hannibal’s side, resting his sweat soaked head on Hannibal’s shoulder. Hannibal ignores how unpleasant the feeling is.

“I keep dreaming that I’m killing Abigail,” Will says softly. 

“You feel responsible for her after we saved her life.”

Will nods against his chest. “I don’t need it interpreted. I just want to sleep.”

“Very well.” 

* * *

The sun is filtering through the blinds and there’s a pounding on the front door when Will wakes up. Hannibal is still sleeping next to him, one arm outstretched in the bed, reaching for Will. They must have separated at some point during the night, Will curling up on his own side of the bed. Once again, he looks so soft and vulnerable. The morning sun hits his cheekbones and glints off the few graying strands of his hair and Will realizes just how beautiful Hannibal is. 

Will is pulled away from his observations when the pounding on the door persists and he groans at the pounding in his head before pulling himself out of bed. He opens the door to see Jack standing on his doorstep.

“Jack? What can I do for you?” Will mumbles. He rubs at his eyes and realizes he’s in his underwear. Then he remembers the hickeys on his neck, and the fact that Hannibal’s car is parked next to his, and the man is asleep, in just a shirt and underwear, in Will’s bed. Will steps onto the porch casually and shuts the door behind him, shielding his bed from view.

“We’ve got a crime scene, but your phone kept going to voicemail…” Jack explains. He turns back and looks at the Bentley parked next to Will’s Volvo. “Sorry, is Doctor Lecter here?” 

“Yeah, we got to drinking last night. He crashed here,” Will only half lies. “Sorry, I must have forgotten to plug in my phone. I slept on the couch.”

“Right. Well, can you get dressed and I’ll give you a ride? We could use Doctor Lecter, too if he doesn’t have plans today,” Jack says with an eyebrow raised.

“Do you want to, uh, come in while we get dressed?” Will hopes he says no, but it’s polite to ask.

“I’ll wait in the car. How long?”

“I’d hate to make you wait, but I really need a shower and coffee, so...”

“Body isn’t going anywhere, take your time,” Jack cuts him off with a nod and heads back to his car.

Will lets out a sigh of relief and walks back into the house. Hannibal is getting out of the bed and the dogs are starting to wake up and make their way to the door. Will pushes the door open again for the dogs and shuts it behind him once they’re out. 

Hannibal is in Will’s space, pushing him up against the door and kissing him. “Good morning,” Hannibal says when he pulls away. “Was that Jack Crawford?”

“He wants us at a crime scene. I need a shower and coffee.”

“He didn’t suspect, did he?” Hannibal asks, heading towards the kitchen. 

“I told him you got drunk and I slept on my couch while you crashed in my bed,” Will sighs. He leans against the kitchen door frame while Hannibal starts a pot of coffee. “We need to be more careful, holy fuck. Even at my own house?” Will shakes his head and crosses his arms. “I’ll clear a space in my barn this weekend and you can start parking in it, so unwanted visitors don’t see your car when they pull up.” 

“Hm, or you could tell people not to show up at your home unannounced at,” Hannibal glances at the clock on the stove, “Eight in the morning.” 

“He tried to call, but my phone’s dead,” Will mumbles. “It’s fine this time, he believed me.”

Will watches as Hannibal opens a cupboard and pulls out two travel mugs, and he’s amazed by how comfortable Hannibal is in his kitchen already. 

“Go shower, Will,” Hannibal says, pouring coffee into each and twisting the tops on. 

“Join me?” 

Will turns, not waiting for a response, then goes to the door and calls the dogs back inside. Once inside again, he shuts the door again and kicks his boxers off, throwing them into the clothes basket by his bed. He turns to see Hannibal standing in the kitchen doorway where Will had been a moment earlier. 

Hannibal pulls his shirt over his head as he follows Will towards the bathroom. He throws it onto Will’s bed and steps out of his underwear as Will watches. 

They make it to the bathroom, Will pushes Hannibal up against the counter and grinds his hips forward, letting their hardening cocks slide against each other. Hannibal grabs him by the face and kisses him, biting his bottom lip between his teeth when he pulls away. 

“How much time do we have?” Hannibal asks as Will starts moving towards the shower. 

“Jack said to take our time, we have long enough for him to think we both took separate showers,” Will responds, turning on the water and waiting for it to warm up. 

He grabs Hannibal by the wrist and pulls him close so they’re chest to chest. Will kisses along Hannibal’s jaw, Hannibal holds tightly onto his hips, encouraging Will to grind against him, both of them letting out small gasps at the friction. 

When the water is comfortable enough, Will pulls Hannibal into the shower, standing facing away from him. Hannibal pulls Will into his chest, sliding his cock against Will’s ass, then slides a hand down Will’s chest and stomach before gripping his cock in his hand. 

Will turns his head and cranes his neck, so he can catch Hannibal’s lips in a kiss while Hannibal strokes him in his hand, and ruts against his ass. Hannibal’s other arm is wrapped around Will’s stomach, holding him tight to his body as he brings the both of them off. Will gasps and moans into Hannibal’s mouth until Hannibal pulls his mouth away. Will braces one hand against the shower wall and pushes his hips back harder against Hannibal, and forward into Hannibal’s firm grip. 

Hannibal’s lips find Will’s neck and Will manages to gasp out, “Don't mark me where people can see,” between moans. Hannibal takes that as permission to nip at Will’s shoulder, leaving bruising bites as he moves along the skin there. 

The hand on Will’s cock speeds up and Will drops his head back on Hannibal’s shoulder, mouth hanging open as he comes. The arm around his stomach keeps him upright as his knees threaten to give out for a second.

When Will regains his bearings, he turns around in Hannibal’s arms and takes Hannibal’s cock into his hand, allowing Hannibal to thrust into his grip until he is also coming, Will’s name on his lips. 

Will kisses Hannibal softly, then turns back towards the spray of the water and makes quick work of actually cleaning himself, scrubbing away the caked on sweat from the previous night. He hears a shampoo bottle open behind him, the sound of the bottle being squeezed, then feels hands in his hair, Hannibal’s fingers massaging into Will’s scalp. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Will says with a moan. It feels good, he’ll admit that, but he doesn’t _need_ it. 

“I want to,” Hannibal says, quiet but just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the water. 

“I know you said you would make breakfast this morning, but we don’t have time,” Will says as they’re getting out and toweling off. 

“After we return from the crime scene, I’ll make lunch to make up for it,” Hannibal smiles. 

Will nods and opens up a cabinet, pulling out a brand new toothbrush that he is glad to have. He hands it to Hannibal, who opens the packaging with a grateful look on his face. They stand next to each other at the sink as they brush their teeth.

“How are you feeling this morning?” Hannibal asks after he spits. “You had a bit to drink last night.”

“I’m fine,” Will shrugs. “Headache, but I’ve had one for days, so I don’t think it’s from the alcohol.”

“Take something for it. Going into the mind of a killer this morning will only make it worse.”

Without another word, Will opens his medicine cabinet and pulls out a bottle of aspirin, shaking the pills into his hand and taking them with a handful of water from the sink. 

“Last night, I asked if it’s bad that I don’t care and you said we should wait until this morning,” Will says quietly as they walk out of the bathroom together. 

“Yes,” Hannibal agrees. He picks up his underwear and pants from the previous night and pulls them both on. “Do you have a shirt I could borrow?”

Will nods and gets a long sleeve shirt from his drawer. It’s more casual than he’s ever seen Hannibal wear in public, but with a coat on over it at the crime scene, it’s likely no one will even notice. 

“So? Why don’t I hate you for what you are?” Will tries again. 

“You may, still.” 

“I already know you’ve killed a lot of people, I know you eat them, but you insist there’s more. How much worse can it be, Hannibal?”

“It’s not like that, necessarily, more so once you realize something key about me, you’ll realize just how… inconvenient it is,” Hannibal says, pulling the shirt over his head. It’s tight, just like the one he had worn to bed, and Will’s eyes linger over the way it stretches over Hannibal’s muscles. 

Will figures that Hannibal means he’s a killer they’ve been looking for, but which one Will has no idea. There are plenty of unsolved cases for the FBI. He doesn’t see how which one he is _really_ matters when he already knows that Hannibal is a seasoned killer. 

Hannibal speaks again as Will starts pulling on his own underwear and a pair of jeans. 

“You may not hate me now because you see yourself in me. Killing Hobbs made you feel powerful, yes? So, and forgive me if I overstep here, so perhaps you see me as someone who can fully understand you and know what it’s like to take a life and enjoy doing so,” Hannibal says. “We could accomplish beautiful things together, Will.”

Will frowns at that and shakes his head. He keeps his tone unaffected, not wanting to sound mad when he isn’t, but knowing he feels slightly defensive, nonetheless. “I killed Garrett Jacob Hobbs because I _had_ to. Because he had killed eight girls, his wife, and was about to kill Abigail. What I did was right and just. What you do… Cassie Boyle and Marissa Schurr were nothing but pigs to you. There was no true need for you to kill them, was there?” 

“You already know I killed Cassie Boyle as a way of helping you find Hobbs, and she fit the victim profile,” Hannibal says. Will knows Hannibal isn’t putting the responsibility of her death on him, but it almost feels that way. Hannibal continues, “Marissa Schurr was to help ensure I could place the blame on someone else, of course.”

Will nods as he finishes getting dressed, buttoning up a flannel shirt, all the way to the top, knowing it still won’t hide all of the marks from before. 

“But okay, so, what? You want a… a partner? You want us to kill together?” Will asks as he pulls on his shoes and a jacket, then heads towards the kitchen door, waiting for Hannibal to follow. 

Hannibal walks in behind him as he says, “Perhaps one day. I won’t force you.”

Will laughs as he picks up his coffee mug. “Well, that’s good.” 

* * *

Hannibal picks up the travel mug of coffee he poured for himself and takes a long sip before shrugging on a jacket and wrapping a scarf around his neck. 

“We should go,” Will says. “We can talk more about this later.”

They leave the house, shutting the door behind them. Will gets into the front seat of Jack’s car and Hannibal gets into the back. 

“We aren’t sure, but we think this is the work of the Chesapeake Ripper,” Jack tells them as he pulls onto the main road. 

It’s not, but Hannibal can’t say that. He didn’t kill anyone, he hasn’t since Marissa Schurr. Whoever this killer is, is copying him in some way if they think it’s him. 

“What makes you think it is?” Will asks. 

“Organs removed. Mutilations appear to have occurred while the victim was still alive. Displayed in an abandoned shop window like a mannequin,” Jack lists off. “If it’s him, we’ll have two more victims in the next few days, then none for a long time. The last sounder was almost two years ago.”

“Did he leave any evidence?” Hannibal asks. 

“We left the crime scene as fresh as we could. Zeller, Katz and Price did a bit of poking around, but nothing more than what I’ve told you about. We wanted to wait for Will,” Jack says. 

“Well, you have me,” Will sighs. 

On the scene, Hannibal watches as Will stands in front of the body with his eyes closed, curious about what Will’s seeing behind those eyelids. 

Eventually, Will steps away, rubbing as his eyes with the heels of his hands, then massaging his temples. Hannibal wants to reach out and ease the pain in his head in any way he can, but he keeps his secured hands in his pocket.

“Not the Ripper,” Will says, shaking his head. 

“How can you be sure?” Jack asks. 

“It’s not right. None of it. Missing organs, sure. Displayed in a shop window, though? It doesn’t seem like something he would do. I mean, at the very least he’d add flowers or something else to solidify a metaphor about materialism and consumerism, or some shit like that,” Will shakes his head. “This is just what it is, a body put in a window so it would be found. Maybe this person is trying to get someone’s attention, or even the Ripper’s attention, but it’s not the Chesapeake Ripper. Besides, the cuts aren’t as precise as all other Ripper victims. This killer could have surgical knowledge, but he’d be a lousy surgeon.”

Hannibal tries his hardest not to beam at the man in front of him. 

“What do we know about the victim?” Will asks. 

“Nothing. We haven’t been able to get an ID yet,” Jack sighs. 

“We need to start there. Then figure out who owns this unit, or what store used to be here,” Will says. “It’s very likely there’s a connection there.”

While Will continues talking to Jack, Beverly Katz comes to stand next to Hannibal. 

“You and Will showed up together,” she points out quietly. “Will’s neck is covered in hickeys. You keep watching him like he’s the best thing you’ve ever seen. It’s not my place, but what’s going on? Aren’t you his therapist?”

“If you are implying that I gave Will those marks, you are very wrong. I am not officially his therapist, no, we are friends and have conversations, where I give him advice from a more therapeutic standpoint, and that conversation last night led to drinking, but Will and I are not involved in any way beyond that. I showed up with him because it was unsafe for me to drive home last night and I fell asleep in his bed while he slept on the couch,” Hannibal explains, not letting a single thing slip through the cracks of his walls. 

“Right,” Beverly says, not entirely convinced, Hannibal can tell as much. “I won’t say anything. You’re keeping it a secret for a reason, and clearly everyone else believes you. I’m just saying, if you aren’t careful, more people will find out. Jack Crawford will be pissed.”

“I am aware. There’s nothing for people to find out about, as there is nothing between us beyond friendship,” Hannibal reiterates. He knows Will considers Beverly to be a friend in some way, but he considers this entire exchange to be intrusive and impolite. 

Beverly pats Hannibal on the shoulder, says, “Uh huh,” and leaves him to go help bag some more evidence. 

Hannibal regards the body in the window, held up by a stand to look like a mannequin. He turns and looks around at the street, the other buildings, the lamp posts and electrical lines, looking for surveillance cameras. The area seems to not have any, the building clearly didn’t have an alarm system. It was easy for this killer to put the body here, with no one to see who they are. 

Surely, Hannibal thinks, the simplicity of the display should have been enough for _everyone_ to know it wasn’t him, not just Will. It doesn’t take a gift like his to know that. Hannibal also feels insulted that everyone thinks the Chesapeake Ripper would set up his display in a spot that poses no challenge. He’ll have to show them, and soon, what he’s capable of.

* * *

Back at Will’s house, Hannibal starts pulling out ingredients to make something for lunch while Will takes the dogs outside, then feeds them. Will remembers seeing Beverly talking to Hannibal while he himself was still speaking to Jack. 

“What was that about with Bev? You looked like you wanted to wring her throat.”

Hannibal’s lips quirk up into the faintest smile, as if recalling a fantasy of a similar situation. “She suspects us.”

“What did you tell her?”

And Hannibal tells him the entire story, how he told her there is nothing for people to find out, and how she didn’t believe him at all. Not in the slightest.

“We need to be more careful, then,” Will sighs. “Help me remember to plug in my phone every time you stay over so we don’t have to worry about Jack showing up.”

“And I’ll help you remember if you ever stay the night at my house, as well,” Hannibal agrees. 

They eat lunch, take the dogs out for a long walk in the field, walking hand in hand, then Hannibal leaves when they return. 

“Call me if you want to set up another date soon,” Will says as Hannibal heads out to his car. 

“Of course,” Hannibal says. 

The second Hannibal drives off, Will sets to work in his barn, starting to clear enough space for Hannibal to park out of sight of unwanted visitors, just in case. Will hopes that, with any luck, Alana has learned her lesson about dropping by unannounced, but there’s always the chance she’ll come knocking again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A 10.4k word chapter for y’all. Needless to say, this fic is gonna be longer than anything I’ve ever written, so buckle in.
> 
> Also apologies because I feel like my characterization of Will in this chapter isn’t as good as it normally is so.

Will calls first, just to tell Hannibal the barn is cleared out and that they won’t have to worry about anyone seeing his car. With that, though, they still didn’t set up another date, not officially. Will is still going to his regularly scheduled appointments, just until they figure out a way to convince Jack he doesn’t need them anymore, but Hannibal has a full schedule for the coming week, and tells Will he’ll be busy the following weekend. 

With the rest of the weekend, Will finishes up some slides for his coming lectures and Jack tells him he should give one on Nicholas Boyle now that the case is closed. Will frowns as he writes a script of their fake story, the fake killer, who was actually innocent. Will includes that, even though the killings had been done slightly differently, the FBI still believes it to have been the same killer between both girls. It’s true, but not in the way Will plans on telling it. 

How he got to this point, where he’s actively covering up the tracks of, and lying about, a serial killer, he doesn’t know. Maybe Hannibal was right, maybe Will is leaning towards that darkness, that powerful feeling he got from killing Hobbs. Only time will tell just how hard he falls. 

On Monday, Will goes into Quantico, wearing Hannibal’s sweater, the marks on his skin on full display. He knows it’s unprofessional, but even if he wore a shirt with a high collar, they’d still show. Besides, it’s a nice sweater. He’s not even being clingy, _definitely is not_ inhaling Hannibal’s lingering scent each chance he gets, it’s just a nice sweater. 

After his first lecture, Will is sitting in his office, thinking about texting Hannibal, but instead he is just sitting there with his phone open on the desk in front of him. 

“You don’t seem like the type to wear a hundred dollar sweater,” Beverly says from behind him. 

Will spins in his desk chair to see Beverly leaning against the door frame of his small office. 

“Oh. It was a gift,” Will tells her. He turns back to his desk, locks his phone so she can’t see whose messages were open, then back to Beverly. 

“Are you and Lecter dating?” Beverly asks, waiting absolutely no time to jump into it. 

“Doctor Lecter? No,” Will says, shaking his head. “We’re friends.” 

“I’m not going to tell anyone, Will,” Beverly sighs. She closes the office door and comes to sit on top of the desk. “I saw you guys at that crime scene. You looked more well rested than I have seen you in a while, and he looked like he wanted to jump your bones.”

“Bev,” Will warns. “Nothing is going on between us.”

“I saw him wearing that sweater two weeks ago, Will. He showed up to the crime scene wearing your shirt. Your neck? Who else would do that? Who else would you even let close enough to you _to_ do that?” Beverly points to a specific mark, then says, “Those are literally impressions of his teeth. No one else’s teeth are sharp like that.” 

Will knows he’s blushing and he drops his head into his hands and groans. 

“No one can know.” 

“No one else does know, but it’s not going to stay that way for long. Get a scarf or a turtleneck sweater. I’m sure he’ll buy you one if you ask.”

“I can buy my own sweaters, thanks,” Will says. 

“Dude, have you seen how he dresses, or his car for that matter? The man has gotta be loaded. I’m not saying you should take advantage of that, but if I had a rich boyfriend, then…” She lifts her hands in a way that says ‘you know what I would do’ and Will can’t help but laugh. 

“You think I should ask Hannibal to be my sugar daddy?” Will jokes. 

“I don’t know if he’d want you to use that terminology, honestly,” Beverly shrugs. “If he wants to buy you things, I’d say let him. Or ask him.” 

Will shakes his head, deciding to change the subject. “Is this what you came to talk to me about?”

“Oh, no. I came to tell you we found prints at the scene and got a match. Dude’s been arrested, confessed to the whole thing.” 

“Well,” Will says. “That’s good, then. Not the Ripper?”

“No, just some Ripper wannabe who killed a former friend.”

Will nods. “Well, good thing that case is closed then.”

There’s a knock on the closed office door and Beverly stands up to leave just as Will says, “Come in.”

The door opens and Hannibal is standing there, a lunch bag in his hand. Beverly pats Hannibal’s shoulder on the way out and Will just looks at him. 

“What- what are you doing here?” Will asks. “And shut the door.” 

Hannibal closes the door behind him and Will reaches out for him to come closer, which Hannibal does. Hannibal leans down to chastely kiss Will before standing straight again.

“I had time today and wanted to bring you lunch,” Hannibal says. “You’re wearing my sweater.”

“It’s a nice sweater,” Will shrugs. “And Beverly knows about us, by the way.”

“Maybe I should not have come. Someone else may see me,” Hannibal sighs.

He sets the bag down and starts taking out containers, then pulls an extra chair up to Will’s desk and sits beside him.

“No, I’m glad you’re here. I was gonna eat a granola bar for lunch,” Will laughs. 

Hannibal looks at him with a disgusted look on his face and pushes a container towards Will, who takes a fork and begins to eat. 

“You said you were busy all week,” Will says. 

“I lied so I could surprise you. I hope that is okay,” Hannibal says. 

“I think it’s fine,” Will says. 

“Did you tell Beverly?”

“Hannibal, she practically already knew when she talked to you. Don’t blame this on me,” Will says defensively. 

“I’m not. I’m just curious what happened,” Hannibal shrugs. 

Will sighs and tells him about the conversation he had with her, leaving out the sugar daddy part of the conversation. 

“And you’re certain she won’t tell anyone?” Hannibal asks. 

“Pretty sure. We need to be more careful, though. I’ll have to start wearing scarves or makeup if you can’t control yourself,” Will tells him. 

“Or turtlenecks, as Beverly said.”

“Yes, or turtle necks,” Will smiles. He puts the lid back on his empty container and slides it back towards Hannibal, who puts it back into the bag. “They caught the mannequin guy.”

“Well that’s fortunate. Not the Ripper, I take it?”

“No. I just hope the Ripper doesn’t get mad about this copycat, you know? Jack wants to catch him so bad, but he doesn’t leave evidence so it’s just a lot of work that I’ll have to put into reading these scenes for next to no reward.”

* * *

  
  


Hannibal considers this and tries to decide how to approach this. 

“You think the Ripper might become active again in response to this murder?” Hannibal asks after a moment. 

“Don't you? He’s proud of his work, his _art,_ so don’t you think he would want to, I don’t know, prove himself?” 

Hannibal loves the way this man’s brain works, and reaches out to hold one of Will’s hands.

“I suppose. But you think it would just be a waste of time to get on this case? Don't you want the Ripper to be caught?” Hannibal asks, giving absolutely nothing away.

“Hannibal, it does not matter what I want. The Ripper will not be caught unless _he_ wants to be. You know that as well as I do. Everyone knows that, but no one wants to accept it.” 

Will’s cell phone alarm starts going off before Hannibal can respond.

“Shit! Sorry, I have to go. Thank you for lunch,” Will says, gathering all of his things for his next lecture. He leans over and kisses Hannibal on the lips. “When can I see you again?”

Hannibal leans forward for another kiss, then whispers, “Wednesday. Come over for dinner Wednesday.”

Will smiles, kisses the corner of Hannibal’s mouth, then stands up. “See you Wednesday, then. I’m sure you can find your way out?”

“Yes, I had a few things to talk to Jack about, though.”

“Okay.”

Hannibal gets out of his chair at last and follows Will out of his small office, pretending nothing is going on between them besides a lunch between colleagues. With one last glance at each other, they part ways, Will going to his lecture hall, and Hannibal going to Jack’s office. 

“Ah, Doctor Lecter!” Jack smiles when Hannibal walks into his office. “What have you got for me?”

Hannibal is there to talk about Will, as part of the arrangement he has with Jack to keep him updated on Will’s ability to be working in the field. 

“I am slightly worried that Will has too much on his plate. We just discussed the possibility of the Chesapeake Ripper coming back after this copycat killing,” Hannibal explains. “Will worries that, since the Ripper does not leave any evidence, that his brain and his gift will be used too much for too little reward. Which is why, I suggest that any work he does for the Ripper cases is kept to a minimum.”

“That’s assuming the Ripper does come back,” Jack frowns. 

“Do you think he will?” Hannibal asks. Hannibal knows it’s only a matter of time before he gets back out there as the Ripper.

“If he does, we’re gonna catch him. We need Will, though.”

“Perhaps, but as I said, it may not be good for him. I fear he will get too close like Miriam Lass did,” Hannibal says softly, trying not to get Jack worked up or upset about the loss of his trainee. 

“I wouldn’t put him out there if I didn’t think he could handle himself,” Jack says. 

“And Will can handle himself, I am just voicing my concerns. He said himself that he hopes the Ripper stays inactive because he feels as though it’ll be a stressor for him,” Hannibal says. 

“Right.” Jack sounds defeated, but like he wants to say more. 

“The Chesapeake Ripper may not even be in a position to kill anymore. There are rumors he has been incarcerated for other crimes, are there not?” Hannibal asks. 

“Yeah, but do you believe that?”

“It’s possible.” 

“Is there anything else?” Jack asks. 

“Will has been unwell as of late, and he isn’t sleeping well. He told me he’s been having nightmares and a fever, as well as a few other symptoms that could possibly suggest a neurological condition, but it’s too early to tell if that’s what it is, or if it’s just a bug. If it doesn’t clear up soon, I am going to suggest he sees a neurologist,” Hannibal tells him. 

He’s decided, for the most part, that he doesn’t want to keep Will sick for longer than he has too. Just long enough to actually convince Will he’s sick and needs to see a doctor. Will won’t see one until it gets bad. 

“You think he may be sick?” Jack asks. There’s concern in his voice. 

“I have a very strong olfactory system, I was able to smell cancer on a teacher before he even knew. I believe I may smell encephalitis on Will, but I do not have enough experience to compare it to,” Hannibal explains. “As I said, if it persists, and I can become more sure, I will suggest he see someone.”

“Well, you should probably get on that sooner rather than later.”

“Will won’t see a doctor until he really thinks something is actually wrong. I believe he thinks he’s coming down with a cold.” 

“Well, convince him it’s not a cold.”

“I’ll do my best, Jack. Just remember what I have said today,” Hannibal requests and then leaves. 

He doesn’t enjoy sharing anything with Jack, but it doesn’t break confidentiality as he’s not actually being paid for any of Will’s sessions, so Jack expects _something_ from him. And keeping Will further from the Ripper case would keep Will’s wishes, while allowing Hannibal to do as he pleases.

It will help them both if Will can find out it’s Hannibal on his own time, rather than when he’s surrounded by FBI agents looking for his opinion. 

* * *

  
  


Wednesday comes and Will lets the dogs out when he returns home from Quantico, then gathers clothes and a toothbrush, throwing them into a bag. He doesn’t know if Hannibal will ask him to stay, but he wants to be prepared just in case. 

He opens his nightstand drawer and throws the condoms and lube he keeps in there into his bag too. Just in case. 

When the dogs are set for the night, Will locks up the house and heads to Baltimore. He knows he’ll have to stop home in the morning to feed them and let them out before his lectures, but he knows they’ll be fine at least through the night. 

Hannibal opens the front door and looks Will up and down, eyes stopping at the bag over his shoulder. 

“I didn’t want to presume, but I also wanted to be prepared in case you asked me to stay,” Will says, suddenly feeling warm in his face and the back of his neck. 

“Of course, you can stay, Will. I’ll show you upstairs where you can put your bag,” Hannibal says and steps out of the doorway to let Will inside. 

Will follows Hannibal through his house and up the stairs to the large master bedroom. He sets his bag down on the bench at the foot of the bed and takes a look around the room. A large fireplace against one wall, with two chairs in front of it. Will wonders how often those chairs are actually sat in. It can’t be often that Hannibal would choose to sit there with a guest rather than lay in the huge bed, or in a sitting room downstairs. 

Back downstairs in the kitchen, Hannibal continues preparing food for their dinner. 

“What kind of meat is that?” Will asks. He knows he was drunk the other night, but he still remembers their conversation. He wasn’t _that_ drunk. 

“Liver,” Hannibal says simply. 

“From?”

“The same man I fed you the other night.” 

Will knows he should find this more bothersome than he does. Knows he should not be ready and willing to eat a human being, but at the same time… Hannibal’s cooking has been nothing less than extraordinary. So Will pretends it is absolutely not human, and eats alongside Hannibal at the dinner table. 

He goes easy on the wine tonight, slowly drinking a single glass over the course of their meal, and not refilling when Hannibal suggests they retire to his study. Hannibal settles down onto the couch and Will sits close next to him, not quite touching. 

“Will, I believe I should be honest with you about something,” Hannibal says after a few minutes. 

Will tries to hide the panic he feels about that statement and just responds with a, “Hm?”

“On Monday, I did not only come to have lunch with you, but Jack… expects me to report back to him on your state of mind,” Hannibal explains. He drops a hand to Will’s thigh and lets it rest there. “As you’re not officially my patient, and no ones paying me for your sessions, I am not bound to confidentiality and Jack always wants me to give him something.” 

“Okay…” Will says, waiting for Hannibal to continue. 

“I did tell him that we discussed the Ripper at our lunch and that he shouldn’t throw you head first into the Chesapeake Ripper case should he resurface,” Hannibal says hesitantly. 

Will sets his hand on top of Hannibal’s and looks up to meet his eyes. “You were scared to tell me this?”

Hannibal shrugs slightly. “You said it to me in your own office, to me as a date, meeting you for lunch, not in… not in the setting that I would typically have conversations with you that would be relayed to Jack in some way. It feels like a betrayal of your trust in me.”

“Hannibal, it’s okay,” Will says, and he means it. “Thank you for telling me.”

“In the future, I would like you to tell me exactly what I can repeat to Jack, or perhaps we leave those conversations to strictly be in my office.”

“Of course,” Will nods. Feeling bold, he climbs into Hannibal’s lap, and he says, “Right now I would like to say something that I do not think you should repeat to Jack Crawford.”

“Hm? And what would that be?”

Will leans forward and whispers into his ear, “I want you to fuck me.” 

“I can assure you I will not be saying those words to Jack Crawford,” Hannibal smiles. “Should we go upstairs?” 

Instead of answering, Will gets off of him, stands up and turns to offer Hannibal a hand, which he uses to pull the man off the couch with. 

Will starts unbuttoning his own shirt as they go up the stairs, but halfway up the staircase, Hannibal pushes him up against the wall and connects their mouths, licking into Will’s with intent. Will’s hands make their way to Hannibal’s hips and pull them together, moaning into Hannibal’s mouth when he feels Hannibal’s hardening cock against his hip bone. 

“Bed,” Will manages to gasp, pulling his face to the side and away from Hannibal’s mouth. 

“Bed,” Hannibal agrees and pulls away from Will, grabbing a hand to continue leading him up the stairs, making it impossible for Will to continue unbuttoning his shirt. 

They make it to Hannibal’s room, only stopping twice to push each other into a wall and grind against each other. 

A few feet from the bed, Hannibal stands behind Will and pulls him into his chest, rubbing his clothed erection against Will’s clothed ass while his hands trail down Will’s chest and begin unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. Hannibal’s lips trail down the side of Will’s neck and one of his hands starts to palm Will through his pants, causing Will to push forward into that hand with a groan. 

The hand is gone too soon and Hannibal releases him, allowing Will to turn around and face him, and Hannibal pushes the flannel shirt over Will’s shoulders, letting it fall to the ground. Will starts unbuttoning Hannibal’s waist coat, pushes it off of him, then starts on his shirt, while Hannibal’s hands go for Will’s belt, then button and zipper, then he’s pushing Will’s pants and underwear down in one swift movement. 

Will is left naked in front of Hannibal, while he still unbuttons Hannibal’s shirt. He feels exposed and hesitant now, and Hannibal seems to sense it because he pushes down his own pants and underwear and steps out of them. 

And then Hannibal is on him, lips and teeth on Will’s neck, one hand on his face, the other pulling him close so their naked bodies are pressed together, cocks aching and trapped between their bodies. 

“Hannibal,” Will groans, trying to pull away and get to the bed. 

“Patience, darling,” Hannibal murmurs against his neck, but he still lets Will go and Will pulls him by a hand to the bed, where Will lays down on his back, and Hannibal climbs over him, not yet allowing their bodies to touch. 

He holds himself up with his hands and bows his head to press his lips to Will’s in a tender kiss. None of the urgency or aggressiveness from the hall, just gentle kisses that move from Will’s mouth, to his jaw, to his neck. 

Will wraps his arms around Hannibal’s shoulders and pulls him closer, and Hannibal finally drops most of his weight down on Will’s body. Hannibal props himself up on his elbows and looks down into Will’s eyes, and Will takes his glasses off and sets them down on the nightstand next to the bed. He feels the need to look at Hannibal without his usual barrier of his glasses frames, and Hannibal kisses his forehead, his cheekbones, and when Will’s eyes flutter closed, Hannibal kisses his eyelids. 

It’s all far too intimate, nothing like their previous rushed encounters that were just to get off. This feels like so much more than that to Will and part of him feels the need to get away, withdraw into himself, or distance himself from Hannibal before his feelings evolve into something more. 

Hannibal’s touches are so gentle, in all the right places, he knows exactly what to say to Will at any given moment, he’s perfect in every way, but that’s dangerous. 

Because this is just supposed to be… sex between two men with a mutual attraction, dates between people who enjoy each other’s company, and nothing more. It can’t turn into love, it will never be love, right? _Right?_ Because they’re keeping it a secret and it can’t last beyond random dinner dates. Right? Because Hannibal is a killer with far too many secrets, and Will is an FBI employee and it can never work long term. Because it’s way too soon to feel this way, to even _think_ about feeling this way. But, oh god, the way Hannibal makes Will feel… he wants this. He wants all of it, but he knows he can’t have it, he knows that. It shouldn’t– _can’t_ –mean this much. 

“Darling, where did you go?” Hannibal whispers against his lips. And there Hannibal goes again, calling Will things like _darling_ and that does something to Will. Causes a warm feeling to spread throughout his entire body, causes a tightening feeling in his chest, causes the muscles in his mouth to threaten stretching into a smile. 

“Nowhere, I’m here,” Will swallows. 

“You’ve withdrawn. Stay here with me,” Hannibal says. His lips trail down Will’s neck, to his chest. He kisses down Will’s stomach, hands trailing down Will’s sides. 

“I’m with you, I am,” Will assures him. He tugs at Hannibal’s shoulders, where he’s kissing his hip bones now, and pulls him back up so they’re face to face. 

He tilts his chin up and catches Hannibal’s lips with his own and sighs into the kiss, tangles his fingers into Hannibal’s hair, and uses his other arm to run his hand up Hannibal’s side. Hannibal drops his hips down so their cocks can slide together and Will moans into Hannibal’s mouth and wraps his legs around Hannibal’s waist, urging him closer, pulling him tighter to his body. 

Hannibal kisses the corner of Will’s mouth and pulls away, then sits up and back on his heels between Will’s legs. Hannibal just looks down at him, trails his hands up and down Will’s thighs, but doesn’t move any more than that. 

“There’s lube and condoms in my bag,” Will tells him, pointing to the duffel bag he brought with. 

“I have both,” Hannibal says with a shrug. “I just want to look at you for a minute.” 

Will feels the need to look away from Hannibal’s gaze, squirm away from the gentle touch on his thighs. He’s nearly uncomfortable with the way Hannibal looks at him like he’s the best thing he’s ever seen. 

“Beautiful,” Hannibal whispers. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Will doesn’t respond to that, he never knows how to respond to something like that. Thankfully, Hannibal doesn’t wait for a response and climbs over Will to the side of the bed, where he opens a drawer and takes out lube and a condom and sets them both on the bed next to Will. He gets back in his spot between Will’s legs and runs his hands up Will’s stomach, down his sides, over his hips and thighs. 

Hannibal takes Will’s cock in hand and leans down to kiss his lips as he gives Will a couple lazy strokes, causing Will to buck into his grasp, searching for more, and moan into his mouth. He can feel Hannibal smiling against his lips.

Will hears the tube of lube click open and then there’s a slick finger circling his entrance. 

“You’re sure?” Hannibal asks. 

“Yes.”

And then Hannibal is pushing one finger inside him, working it in and out before adding another, stretching Will open. Hannibal takes his time and Will is squirming under the attention. Each time Hannibal’s fingers find his prostate he has to grip the sheets and bite back moans. 

“Hannibal. That’s enough,” Will says when it’s too much and Hannibal pulls his fingers out immediately. While Will is grateful that they’re going to get this show on the road, he’s left feeling empty as Hannibal opens the condom and rolls it over his cock. He watches as Hannibal slicks himself up, and he spreads his legs wider and lifts his hips slightly to give Hannibal better access. 

* * *

Hannibal looks down at Will, his small but powerful frame, his leaking cock against his stomach, his parted lips, red from kissing. Slowly, oh so slowly, he pushes into Will, watching those gorgeous eyes close and his back arch. Hannibal falls forward and frames Will’s head with his elbows. 

Strong legs wrap around his waist and heels dig into his back. Will wraps his arms around Hannibal’s back, one hand makes its way up and into Hannibal’s hair and he’s being pulled down into a kiss. He swallows down the moans Will lets loose as Hannibal pushes all the way into him. Despite all of his preparation, Will is still so tight around him and Hannibal has to take a moment so he doesn’t come right then. 

Hannibal is about to start moving when Will whispers, “Wait another second.” And Hannibal does, letting Will adjust to him. 

He doesn’t know when he decided that he would do anything for Will, but he knows in this moment that’s entirely true. He’s never felt that way about anyone in his life, truly didn’t think he ever would or could. Hannibal doesn’t even know what to call this feeling, just knows that his mind is filled with nothing but _Will, Will, Will._

“Okay, baby,” Will whispers and _oh._ Hannibal moans at those words alone and he only grows louder as he pulls out nearly all the way and pushes back in, setting a steady rhythm that has Will writhing underneath him. 

Hannibal shifts his angle and earns an, “Oh fuck,” from Will that only makes Hannibal speed up and drop his head so he can kiss Will, drinking down the sounds that come out of his mouth. 

“Hannibal,” Will groans. “Let me, ah, I want to be on top of you.”

All Hannibal can respond to that with is a low growl and a hiss as he pulls out and lays on his back. Will rolls over on top of Hannibal and pushes himself up with his hands on Hannibal’s chest until he’s sitting up, straddling Hannibal’s hips. 

He lifts up, reaches behind him to grasp Hannibal and then sinks down in one fluid motion. Will leans forward and puts his hands on Hannibal’s chest for leverage as he lifts himself back up, then drops down again, setting a pace that has Hannibal’s toes curling as he watches Will above him. 

Hannibal’s hands grip Will’s thighs, his hips, trail up his stomach, anywhere he can reach. Will’s head is thrown back, his jaw slack. His fingers are tangling into the hair on Hannibal’s chest. 

Will falls forward, pressing his chest to Hannibal’s, his mouth to his neck, sucking and biting and kissing, no doubt leaving marks as he trails along the skin. Hannibal pushes his hips up, thrusting to meet Will every time he grinds down. 

Hannibal’s close, so close and he reaches between their bodies and takes hold of Will’s cock, stroking him in time with both of their movements. 

“Fuck,” Will groans. “Hannibal.”

“Come for me, Will,” Hannibal whispers. 

Seconds later Will is coming between their stomachs and clenching around Hannibal’s cock as Hannibal fucks him through it and Hannibal is falling over the edge, too, holding Will tight to his chest as he comes. Will slumps against him, both of them breathing hard, coming down. 

“Fuck,” Will laughs breathlessly against his throat. “I’ll move. Just give me a second.”

“Take all the time you need,” Hannibal says. 

After a minute, Will is pulling off of him and laying down on his back next to Hannibal, the both of them staring at the ceiling. 

Will starts to laugh, the sound permeating the room around them and Hannibal turns his head to look at him curiously. 

Shaking his head, Will says, “So, yeah, probably do not repeat any of that to Jack Crawford.”

And then Hannibal is laughing too, a full bellied laugh that he didn’t even know he had in him, and he can’t seem to contain it. The things Will does to him. 

* * *

When they compose themselves, Will watches Hannibal get up from the bed and disappear into the bathroom. He comes back, the condom disposed of, and a wet cloth in his hand. He wipes down Will’s stomach, then returns to the bathroom once again. 

Hannibal comes back and climbs into bed with Will, pulling the blankets over them both. 

“Don’t forget to plug your phone in. You don’t need Jack Crawford showing up to your house to find you missing if there’s a crime scene,” Hannibal says. 

Will sighs, knowing Hannibal is right, but mostly wanting to just ignore Jack if there _is_ a crime scene and face the consequences later on. Still, he retrieves his phone from his discarded pants, then his charger from his bag, and plugs it into the wall on his side of the bed. 

“I know I have warned you several times before, but I will likely have a nightmare,” Will tells him. He’s already sweaty, and he knows that he’ll just wake up even sweatier. “I’m serious, if I get too sweaty drag me out of bed and dump me on the floor.”

“I will do no such thing,” Hannibal says. “Your nightmares do not bother me, Will. Have I ever appeared agitated that you have woken me up?”

“No,” Will huffs. 

They’re laying on their sides, facing each other and Hannibal reaches out and places a hand on Will’s forehead and Will pushes forward into the touch. Hannibal pushes Will’s hair away from his forehead, then trails his hand down to cup a cheek. 

“You’re still feverish, darling,” Hannibal says. “I may have to suggest you see a neurologist.”

Will shakes his head. “No, no I’m fine.”

“Will, really. If it’s what I think it may be, it’s only a matter of time before your symptoms worsen.” 

“Hannibal, I’m fine. Please just drop it,” Will requests. “I don’t need you caring for me like I’m your patient right after we have sex. It’s weird.”

“Will,” Hannibal tries. 

“If I say drop it, I expect you to drop it. And that goes both ways,” Will says, firm as he can. “That’s all I ask.”

“Any time one of us says to drop it, the other has to comply?”

“Exactly. That can be a rule between us.”

“You believe we should have rules.” It’s not a question and Will knows that. 

“Considering our dynamic, yes. You’re a serial killer and I am sure you have secrets you don’t want me to know as an FBI agent. You’re a doctor and there are certain times when I do not want to be treated like a patient,” Will explains. “So yeah, I think setting that boundary would be good for us moving forward.” 

“Very well,” Hannibal sighs. Hannibal leans over and shuts off the lamp on his nightstand. “We should likely get some sleep.”

Will, somewhat unsure if he should or not, rolls closer to Hannibal. His worries subside when Hannibal lifts an arm so Will can settle into his side. 

He rests his head on Hannibal’s shoulder and suddenly his exhaustion catches up to him and his eyes are growing heavier with each moment. 

Just as Will is about to fall asleep, Hannibal speaks again. 

“Will?”

“Mm.”

“I’d like to take you to an event at a museum this Saturday. I was planning on attending by myself, but I find that I would rather enjoy your company.”

“Okay,” Will agrees. “Ask me again in the morning. Too tired to think about it.”

Will dreams of the stag again, this time walking through his house, hooves clicking on his scratched up hardwood floors. The dogs don’t seem scared of him, Will isn’t scared of him just standing there, face to face, but he knows there’s a danger lurking beneath the surface. When Garrett Jacob Hobbs steps out of the kitchen, as he so often appears in Will’s nightmares, Will lifts his gun and shoots, but when he approaches the lifeless body, it’s Abigail’s vacant eyes that stare back at him. 

He wakes up sobbing, shaking, and the arm around his body retreats and he wishes it hadn’t. Hannibal, always so considerate, who is pulling away now because Will told him before that he got scared when he was pinned down after a nightmare, but now Will seeks his touch. 

“Hannibal,” he whispers into the dark. He sits up and grasps the air next to him, looking for a hand, anything. 

“I’m here, darling,” Hannibal whispers back and offers Will his hand, and Will clutches it tight as Hannibal sits up next to him. 

Will is still shaking and Hannibal shifts next to him and the lamp switches on and for a second the shadows look like Hannibal has antlers, and he squeezes his eyes shut and they’re gone when he opens them again.

“Did you want to talk about it?” Hannibal asks. Will can tell he's still not sure if he should touch Will, so Will moves closer, pressing his face into Hannibal’s neck and wrapping his arms around him. 

“No. I don’t,” Will says. Hannibal’s arms come around him, cool on his warm body and Will can’t help but shiver. The sweat on him is cooling in the air conditioned room and he almost feels bad that he’s subjecting Hannibal to this. “I should shower. I’m disgusting.”

“If you want to. Or I can draw you a bath,” Hannibal says into Will’s hair. “We could both take a bath.”

“No, no. You should go back to sleep. What time is it anyways?” Will lifts his head from Hannibal’s shoulder to look at his alarm clock and the besides table and sees it’s just after two. He wasn’t asleep for long at all, but it felt like he was. 

“Come on, Will,” Hannibal whispers and starts to extract himself from Will’s arms. He gets up from the bed and Will watches as he makes his way to the bathroom. He hears the bath running and a second later, Hannibal is back at his side, coaxing him out of bed. 

Hannibal leads him by the shoulders to the bathroom and over to the tub. 

“Get in,” Hannibal says, so Will does. 

“Are you joining me?” Will asks, raising an eyebrow at Hannibal, who just stands next to the tub, fully naked. 

“If you’d like me to,” Hannibal says. 

Will nods and slides forward in the warm water so Hannibal can get in behind him, Will between his legs. 

“Do you spend time with other people or is all of your free time consumed by myself lately?” Will asks, leaning back into Hannibal’s chest. 

“I would rather be in your company than anyone else’s,” Hannibal whispers into his ear. “But no, I had dinner with Alana last night.” 

“Did you?” Will feels jealousy spread through his entire body, a weird sort of possessiveness that he knows he shouldn’t feel. 

“Yes. We have dinner often,” Hannibal says. His hands find their way to Will’s stomach and chest and pull him closer. “You have nothing to worry about, Will.”

“I’m not- I didn’t mean it like that,” Will says. “Besides, it’s not like…” Will swallows. “It’s not like we’ve established exclusivity, right? Even if you were, uh, seeing Alana, that’s… I can’t feel mad about that.”

“You’re the only person I’m seeing, Will,” Hannibal says. “Is there someone else for you? Did you not want to be exclusive?”

“Oh god no, Hannibal. That’s not what I was saying at all. You’re the only person I’ve been with in months and I’m not planning on finding anyone else.”

Hannibal kisses his neck. “Good. Neither am I.”

“So that’s… that’s that, then? We’re together and we’re exclusive and these are more than just hookups and random dates.” 

“I would say we’re in a relationship, yes. If that’s what you’d like.” 

Will breathes out a laugh and says, “Yeah. I would like that.” 

He can feel Hannibal smiling against his neck, and then his lips start brushing light kisses against the skin. Will turns his head so he can kiss Hannibal on the lips. 

They sit in the bath until the water goes cold and uncomfortable, sharing each other’s company and stealing kisses. Will eventually decides it’s time to get out, no matter how badly he wishes he could stay in this moment, and Hannibal follows, pulling towels out of a cabinet for both of them. 

Will dries off and decides to pull on a pair of clean underwear from his bag, feeling slightly too exposed, despite everything he and Hannibal did tonight. Hannibal seems to notice and dresses in a pair of sleep pants and a shirt before getting back into bed. 

The clock says it’s after three now and Will knows he’s going to be tired when he wakes again, only a few hours until he has to leave if he wants to make it home to the dogs in time to still have enough time to make it to Quantico. He frowns at the long day ahead, several lectures, stopping at home to check on the dogs once again, then his appointment with Hannibal at 6:30. It’s going to be tiresome. 

Hannibal turns over and reaches out to caress Will’s cheek. Will closes his eyes and leans into Hannibal’s gentle touch. 

“You’re thinking loudly,” Hannibal whispers. 

“Thinking about the long day ahead,” Will sighs. 

“We can cancel tonight if you don’t feel up to it.”

Will nods. “I don’t think I’ll make it through the day if I come to my appointment. Not that I don’t want to see you, of course, just…”

“It would be a therapy setting and that can be more emotionally draining than our regular interactions. I will feel your absence, but I would rather you get some rest,” Hannibal says. He rolls closer to Will and rests his head on Will’s shoulder. “I already gave Jack a report of our conversation on Monday, so I assume he’ll consider that adequate for this week.”

“Yeah,” Will says. He yawns then and Hannibal reaches over to turn off the lamp, then settles back down, head on Will’s chest, an arm draped over his stomach. 

“If you don’t want me here, we can change positions,” Hannibal murmurs. 

Will hugs Hannibal around the shoulders and squeezes him tight. “No, stay right there.” 

Hannibal kisses Will’s chest and Will feels like he’s right where he belongs. 

* * *

Before Will’s alarm even goes off, Hannibal wakes up to Will removing himself from underneath him and getting out of bed. He checks the clock on his nightstand and it’s not even 6 yet and Hannibal makes an attempt to reach out for him as he gets up. 

“I’ll be right back,” Will says and disappears into the bathroom. 

Hannibal can’t believe he’s being _clingy._ Will only had to get up to use the restroom, but Hannibal still finds himself missing the man for that minute he is gone. His goal was to ensure Will would fall in love with him, give him no reason to turn Hannibal in for his crimes, but Hannibal thinks he may be falling quicker than Will. 

The toilet flushes, the sink runs, and a second later Will is falling back into the bed, sprawled out on his stomach next to Hannibal. He turns his head to the side and Hannibal can see him smiling in the dark. 

“Your bed is really comfortable,” Will says. “I might just start staying here every night.”

“As much as I would enjoy having you here, it perhaps would not be good to leave your dogs home all the time,” Hannibal says. 

“No I suppose you’re right,” Will says with a yawn. “God I’m tired. I don’t want to cancel tonight, but I really think I have to.”

“I already told you it’s alright,” Hannibal whispers. “Sleep for a bit longer.”

Will makes a noise that sounds like agreement and then turns himself away from Hannibal and scoots back on the bed until his back is to Hannibal’s chest. He reaches behind himself to grab hold of Hannibal’s hand and pulls his arm around his waist. Hannibal smiles into the back of Will’s neck and tightens the arm. 

An alarm goes off at 6 and Will groans loudly before sitting up. Hannibal turns to lay on his back as he watches Will stretch his arms above his head.

He reaches out and traces his fingers down Will’s spine, which causes the other man to shiver, then turn to look at him. His eyes are tired and his hair is wild and Hannibal wants to pull him forward and kiss those lips that look like they’re suppressing a yawn.

“Morning,” Will mumbles and then he does yawn and Hannibal sits up and does kiss him. 

“Good morning,” Hannibal responds when he pulls away. “Do you have time for breakfast?”

“No,” Will says, shaking his head. “I have to let out the dogs and get to Quantico by 9:30.”

“You better get up then,” Hannibal says. 

“Yeah,” Will says and then groans again as he gets out of bed. 

Hannibal still goes downstairs and starts cooking while Will showers and gets dressed and by the time Will comes down, Hannibal has coffee and a breakfast sandwich, along with some cut up fruit waiting for him. 

“Take it to go, darling,” Hannibal says, handing off the travel mug and the container of food. 

“You’re perfect, thank you. I’ll see you Saturday? For your museum thing?” Will asks. He takes a sip of coffee and moans. “God that’s good.”

“Yes, Saturday. I’ll text you with more information.” 

Hannibal walks him to the door and holds both food and cup while Will pulls on his jacket and ties his shoes. When Will takes them back, he kisses Hannibal quick on the lips and then turns to go. 

With his first appointment not being until 11, Hannibal has time to lay back down. He buries his face into the pillow Will used all night, breathing in the lingering scent. 

* * *

Will reaches his lecture hall just as his students start filing in. He sets his coffee mug down on the desk, then starts setting up his laptop for his lectures. He talks about the Ripper copycat that displayed his victim like a mannequin, talks about how if he hadn’t made the mistake of leaving prints, it’s likely there would have been several more murders like these. He explains what this could mean for the actual Chesapeake Ripper case and how it could cause him to resurface.

As his lecture starts winding down, Jack Crawford shows up in the doorway, but makes a gesture for Will to continue. Not urgent, then. 

As the students leave the room, Jack makes his way up to the front where Will stands. When he reaches the front, he stops in front of the desk. 

“What can I do for ya, Jack?” Will asks. 

“Doctor Lecter and I spoke on Monday about the Chesapeake Ripper. He said I shouldn’t throw you into the case if he resurfaces. I wanted to know what you think,” Jack says. 

Will shrugs. “I told Doctor Lecter that it would be too much work for not enough reward. You and I both know the Ripper doesn’t leave evidence and going into the mind of killers is… difficult to say the least. I would rather do it for killers that we actually have a shot of catching.” 

“You don’t think it would be worth your time to help catch the Ripper?” Jack asks. Will feels like he’s being baited. 

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it Jack. This work takes a toll on me whether I’m stable or not. I want to catch the Ripper as much as anyone, but it’s not a case I want to get too close to. _If_ the Ripper resurfaces any time soon, then I think I need to be able to reserve the right to stay home if I don’t feel like I can do it.” 

“Is everything okay with you, Will? Lecter said you’ve been feeling unwell.”

“I’m fine, mostly. I just don’t sleep through the night. Tired a lot. It won’t do me any good to be on a case like the Chesapeake Ripper. Any other cases, give me a call and I’ll be there,” Will says. “We don’t even know if he’s going to resurface, Jack. For all we know he’s in prison for other crimes.”

“Do you believe that?”

“No. I don’t. But we can hope, right?”

Will picks up his coffee and takes a long sip. 

“We can hope. I’ll let you get back to work then. You have a session with Doctor Lecter tonight?”

“Oh, uh. No. We cancelled tonight because we talked on Monday.”

“Right, well. I’ll see you, then.”

Jack turns and walks out of the room and Will feels the need to call Hannibal to complain about all of it, but he doesn’t. Hannibal is probably in an appointment right now, anyways. 

He gets through his next lecture, then heads to his office to work on slides for his next lesson plan. He opens his bag and pulls out a granola bar for lunch and after a while he heads to the cafeteria to get a soda. When he returns to his office, Beverly is standing in front of the door waiting for him.

“Jack says you’re distancing yourself from cases. I think that’s good,” she says. “He works you too hard and every time we tell him that, he says you can handle yourself.”

“I can handle myself,” Will says, unlocking the door and stepping inside. He holds the door for Beverly to follow. “But it’s still nice to have people looking out for me, too. Jack said he would watch me, take me out when he _knows_ I can’t handle it, but when people actually tell him I can’t, when _I_ tell him I can’t, sometimes he tries to convince me to stay.”

“Yeah,” Beverly nods. “Good to put your foot down, though. Does it have anything to do with Lecter?”

“He’s… Yeah, I guess so. I don’t know. It’s different talking to him as a boyfriend than as a patient and when he’s honest about his concerns about me, it hits closer to home now, I think,” Will says. “I feel the need to take care of myself, even if it means I’m not actively saving lives. Especially when it comes to a killer like the Ripper.”

“You’re right, you know. The Ripper is a waste of our time usually, but after Miriam Lass went missing, Jack won’t let him go. I mean, he’s killed 9 people and left absolutely no evidence, nothing useful for us,” Beverly says. “He’s evaded us and the only person that found him was a trainee that went digging and jumping to conclusions we couldn’t explain or retrace and now it’s too late to take any of that back.”

“Jack seemed to think I was saying I don’t want to catch the Ripper,” Will says. “Of course I want him to stop killing, but he’s outsmarted the FBI for this long. Even when we caught up to him, he found a way to cover the tracks.” 

“It’s gonna take a hell of a mistake on his end for us to catch him, that’s for sure,” Beverly says. She stands from where she’s sitting on Will’s desk. “You still have appointments with Lecter now that you’re dating?”

“We’re gonna keep having them for now. Not tonight, though.”

“You wanna go get drinks after work?”

Will thinks about saying no, but Beverly is becoming his friend, one of his only, and he finds himself wanting that. Wanting friendship. Especially because she’s the only person, besides Abigail, that knows about him and Hannibal, and it would be nice to confide in someone about his feelings for the other man. To ask if things are moving too fast. So, he finds himself saying, “Yeah, sure.”

“Cool, I’ll text you the bar location. I’m done at 5.”

“Alright.”

Beverly leaves his office then and Will smiles to himself. He’s never really had close friends. Ever. But Beverly seems to understand him and where he comes from and she doesn’t poke or prod in places she shouldn’t. That’s hard to come by. Even Alana has a professional curiosity about him and real friendship with her seems like it wouldn’t be easy. 

Will finds himself wanting to tell Hannibal, so he sends him a text. 

_thank you for breakfast and the coffee, i really do appreciate it. beverly invited me out for drinks and i actually accepted, if you can believe that._

He smiles when his phone buzzes with a response a few minutes later. 

_As much as I would like to say I am not surprised, I actually quite am. I am happy you are finding friends to spend your time with, though I do find myself a bit jealous to not be the one occupying your time tonight. You’re very welcome for the coffee and breakfast, and I hope to cook breakfast for you properly soon. Call me later if you’d like. My last appointment ends at 5._

Will sends a message back. 

_as much as i would prefer spending time with you tonight, i think drinks with bev will do me some good. i’ll call you when i get home tonight if i don’t forget._

He sets his phone down and continues working up until the time he has to go back to his lecture hall for one last class of the day. After that lecture, he checks his phone to see a location for a bar from Beverly and heads out to meet her there. 

“Will!” Beverly calls from a table when he walks in. He makes his way over. “I wasn't sure if you’d actually show.” 

“I said I would, didn't I?” Will says as he sits down across from her in the booth. 

“I’ll get you a drink,” she says, standing up and walking to the bar. 

She comes back with two beers and slides one across the table to Will. 

“Okay. Spill. Tell me about you and Lecter.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything. When did you get together?”

“In Minnesota.”

“You guys had to share a room, didn’t you? Oh my god, is that how it started?” Beverly asks. 

“No. He asked me out the morning we went to the hunting cabin. Before we went,” Will says, feeling the need to clarify that they didn’t see a dead girl _and then_ decide to go on a date. “Sharing a room was just… A bonus.” 

“Well, damn,” Beverly laughs. “Do you love him?”

“Bev, we’ve been together a week. I wasn’t even sure if it was a real relationship or if we were just hooking up until last night.” 

“That doesn’t answer my question, though, does it?” Beverly raises an eyebrow. 

Will sighs. “I don’t think it’s love. Not yet. Honestly, it _is_ way too soon. But the way he makes me feel…” Will shakes his head and smiles to himself. “No one’s made me feel like he does.” 

“You've got it bad, huh?”

Will laughs and takes a sip of his drink. “Yeah,” he breathes out. “I think I do.” 

“You think he feels the same?”

“Fuck, I hope so. I have perfect empathy, but he’s hard to read, you know? Some things slip through, I can tell he cares about me and that he’s happy when I’m around, but he has walls built up really high,” Will says with a shrug. 

“Probably a result of trauma,” Beverly shrugs. “On top of the fact that he’s a psychiatrist and has to listen to everyone’s problems without showing emotions.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Will says. “So what about you? Are you seeing anyone?”

“This job makes it really hard to. At least Doctor Lecter knows about the things you see and you’re supposed to talk to him about them. It’s hard to find someone who can even stomach the idea,” Beverly says, looking down at the table. “Not that I’m really looking right now, anyways.” 

“I really wasn’t either.” 

Beverly smiles weakly. “Well, not everyone has a hot, rich, European psychiatrist that wants to get in their pants.”

“He’s not technically my psychiatrist. We have conversations,” Will reminds her.

“Yeah? So why haven’t you told Jack, then? Or anyone else?”

“Jack would make me find a real psychiatrist and would think Hannibal cleared me for the field based on romantic interest alone. I don’t want to see anyone else. Alana has come close too, and she’d definitely report Hannibal for some sort of ethical violation,” Will sighs. “It wouldn't go anywhere because all of my sessions have been off the record, but it would still be a pain in the ass.” 

“Yeah, I guess so. What’s going to happen when you guys move in together and get married, though?”

Will chokes on the sip of beer he was taking and coughs. “That’s not even a thought right now. Fuck, and I was worried we were moving too fast as it was, but now I’m gonna start thinking about that shit now that it’s in my head.” 

Beverly laughs. “Sorry, but it’s true. You won’t be able to hide forever.”

“No, but when it gets to that point it’ll be so long after I got cleared that we’ll just lie about getting together so soon after. No one would even think about it.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

After that they fall into comfortable conversation about nothing in particular. Will really feels like he’s _normal_ for once, not seen as some sort of freak like so many people think of him as. Beverly doesn’t see him for how he gets into the minds of killers, doesn’t see him for how he shot Hobbs nine times, or any of that. She sees him as a friend, as Will Graham. 

Will’s phone starts buzzing in his pocket as they’re laughing about Brian and Jimmy’s latest argument over a corpse and he pulls it out, his smile growing even wider.

“Hey baby,” Will answers. Beverly’s eyes grow wider and her smile gets bigger. Will blushes and looks down at the table. 

“Hello darling,” Hannibal’s voice comes through the phone. “Are you still out with Miss Katz?”

“Yeah, I am. Did you need something?” 

“I was just wondering if you were home yet. I was tempted to come by and cook you dinner tonight if you haven’t eaten yet.”

“Oh. I, uh. Sure. Yeah. I’ll call you when I leave?” Will asks. “Or if you wanna head over now, there’s a key hidden under one of the dog figurines in the window.”

“Yes, I can leave now and start cooking when I get there. I could possibly have something ready for you by the time you get home,” Hannibal says. 

“Okay. Um. Did you want to stay over? You don’t have to, but if you want to you can.”

“Not tonight, I’m afraid. I have some things to do at home tonight. You have fun with Beverly and I will see you soon, alright?”

Will tries to hide his disappointment. “Yeah. Okay. See you soon. And hey, let the dogs out, but don’t worry about feeding them, I can do that when I get home.” 

“Okay, Will.”

He hangs up his phone and sets it down on the table. 

“What was all that about?” Beverly asks. 

“Hannibal wants to cook me dinner. He’s heading to my house now and said he’ll have dinner by the time I get home.” 

“Jesus. He’s perfect,” Beverly laughs. 

“I said the same thing this morning when I left his house with breakfast and coffee,” Will smiles. 

“Spending a lot of time together, then,” Beverly says. “It’s only a matter of time before we hear wedding bells. I better be your best man.”

“Of course, Beverly,” Will says, slightly sarcastic. “If Hannibal and I ever get married, you’ll be my best man. And don’t worry, you’ll be the first to know when we get engaged.”

“Good.”

They talk a bit longer until Will decides he better get home to Hannibal and the dogs. He’s sure Hannibal can handle letting them outside, but he’s not entirely sure they’ll listen when he calls them back in. 

Will surprises himself when he pulls Beverly into a hug and thanks her for inviting him out, and promises they’ll do this again, And he surprises himself even more that he actually means it. 

* * *

Hannibal makes it to Will’s house, an entire trunk full of groceries. And several garment bags for Will. He finds the key easily, and he opens the door, nearly getting knocked over by the hoard of dogs that come streaming out into the yard. He props the storm door open with a brick Will keeps nearby, likely for that purpose, and carries everything in.

He unpacks all the groceries, putting them into cabinets and the fridge and the freezer, anywhere he can fit them. He’ll prepare a few lunches for Will, knowing he doesn’t eat when he should or what he should, but that has to wait because he promised to have dinner for Will when he gets home. 

After half an hour, the sound of Will’s car can be heard pulling up, the door opening and shutting, and then Will’s shoes coming up the wooden steps of his porch. Hannibal hears the dogs come in the house first, then the front door shuts again and Will is taking off his shoes, letting them thump on the hardwood floor. 

“Hey,” Will says when he comes into the kitchen. 

Hannibal looks up from the stove and sees Will leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, dogs trying to jump up and say hello while he ignores them. His attention is on Hannibal instead. 

“Did you have a nice time with Miss Katz?” Hannibal asks, turning his attention back to his cooking. 

“Yeah. She’s a good friend, I think. I can’t say that about… anyone really,” Will says with a shrug. He pushes off the door frame and walks across the kitchen. Hannibal can feel his warmth just inches behind his back, breath on his neck. Then Will is resting his chin on Hannibal’s shoulder, pressing their bodies together, his arms snaking their way around Hannibal’s waist.

“That’s good. I’m glad you have her. Did you talk about anything interesting?”

“You,” Will laughs. “She thinks you’re good for me.”

“Hm, and do you agree?” 

“Yes. I do.”

Hannibal smiles as he continues to cook their dinner, Will plastered to his back until he needs to move away from the stove. Will lets go and walks into the other room, saying he needs to use the restroom. 

When Will comes back, Hannibal is plating their dinner and bringing it over to the table. 

“You’re sure you can’t stay tonight?” Will asks as he sits down across from Hannibal.

Hannibal can see the hopefulness in his eyes, even if Will doesn’t want to come across that way. He considers his plans for tonight, how he said earlier that he has things to do at home, but… 

“On second thought, I can. I’ll take care of my other errands another night. It’s getting late already,” Hannibal says. He still needs to do what he was planning, but he has ways to ensure Will stays sleeping tonight. It’s risky, but it would provide an alibi. 

After dinner, Hannibal makes the excuse that he needs to move his car into the barn, just in case. When he’s out, he retrieves sedatives he keeps just in case and brings them back into the house. 

The original plan was to wait a while longer before resurrecting the Chesapeake Ripper, but with the recent copycat killer, he’s been presented with the opportunity. Though, because he’s not ready to tell Will, he has to drug him, and that will just prolong the amount of time he has to keep it a secret. Hannibal is now committing to blinding Will, which isn’t what he wanted to do, but it will work out better this way. He won’t be gone long tonight, he’s already killed and arranged the display. He just needs to leave it in a suitable location. Two and a half hours at most. 

Will is settled on the couch when Hannibal returns inside. 

“Wine?” Hannibal asks, heading into the kitchen before Will can even respond. He sees the dogs are eating, so that just leaves putting them outside before bed, not a hard task when the effects of the drugs set in. He knows he shouldn’t do this to Will, but still, he hands him his glass and settles down onto the couch next to him.

“Thanks,” Will says. “Did you stock my kitchen?”

“Yes. And I’m going to prepare you lunches to take to work with you.”

“You don’t have to, really.”

“I’d like to,” Hannibal assures him. “I also bought you something for you to wear on Saturday evening. We don’t have time to get anything tailored, but it should fit just fine. I would like to get you some suits fitted eventually.”

“I should say no, but I know you won’t take no for an answer.” 

“You’d be correct,” Hannibal smiles. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LMK what you think!!!


	5. Chapter 5

Will leans against Hannibal on the couch, watching the TV he has turned on, but set to low volume as Hannibal reads one of the books Will had left on the coffee table. He drinks his glass of wine, and sets the glass down, immediately feeling the effects of his long day starting to set in. 

“I’m going to turn in,” Will says with a yawn. He gets up on unsteady feet, too tired to walk properly, and the dogs perk up and come running to the door to be let out one last time.

He stands there, leaning against the door frame, barely able to keep his eyes open as he waits for the dogs. They come back in and curl up in their beds and Will locks the front door. 

Hannibal has gotten up from his spot on the couch and is by Will’s bed, taking off his clothes and climbing into bed in just his underwear. Will stumbles to the bed, unsure why he’s having such a hard time with his coordination and nearly falls over as he kicks off his pants. 

Will gets into bed and is nearly asleep by the time his head hits the pillow. 

“Your phone, darling,” Hannibal whispers. 

Before Will can react, Hannibal is leaning over his body to pick up his discarded jeans and pull his cell phone out of his pocket. Still leaning over him, he grabs the charger and plugs in Will’s phone, setting it on the nightstand next to him. 

“Thanks, baby,” Will mumbles into his pillow. 

He feels Hannibal’s arm settle over his back just as he’s pulled into sleep. 

When Will wakes up, his head feels foggy and his mouth is beyond dry, waves of nausea hit him every couple of seconds and he feels that normal pounding in his brain. He feels like absolute shit. The sun is starting to rise through the curtains and despite how shitty he feels, sleeping through the night is a small victory in itself. 

Hannibal is next to him, sound asleep, laying on his side facing Will, but not touching him, just a hand outstretched towards Will’s side of the bed. 

Will tries to sit up but the pounding in his head is unbearable and all he can do is groan and flop back down, curling up on his side. 

Next to him, Hannibal starts to stir and moves closer so he can pull Will’s body into his own. Will goes because he feels too groggy to even bother fighting against him, but the sudden movement of Hannibal maneuvering him does nothing good for the way his stomach is twisting. 

Hannibal’s lips press to the back of Will’s neck, and a hand starts trailing its way down his stomach, but Will stops it from going further. 

“Is everything okay?” Hannibal asks. 

“I feel like shit, sorry.” 

“Can I do anything for you?” 

“Could you get me a glass of water?” Will asks. 

Hannibal is out of bed and shuffling towards the kitchen before Will can even process he wasn’t touching him anymore. Hannibal comes back with a glass of water and hands it to Will, just as Will’s phone starts ringing on the nightstand. 

“Yeah?” Will answers. 

“Got a scene. I know what you said about the Ripper, but-” Jack starts. 

Will cuts him off, “If it’s the Ripper and you already know, I’m not coming out.” 

“Will, I really think we have a shot this time. We could really use you,” Jack tries. 

“For what, Jack? You don’t need me to confirm it’s the Ripper. You have everyone else around. I’ll be there for the autopsy and you can bring me as many photos as you want, but I’m not coming to the scene,” Will says. 

Hannibal has been sitting next to him on the bed, rubbing tension out of his back and shoulders and that’s enough to make Will want to stay here all morning. When Hannibal’s thumbs dig into a knot, Will has to cover his mouth with his free hand to stop himself from crying out. 

“Are you okay, Will?” Jack asks instead of responding to anything Will said.

“Yeah. Just feel like shit this morning. I’m calling out from my lectures, I think. Give me a call later if you want to drop off photos,” Will says. Hannibal kisses the side of Will’s neck, then bites lightly and starts to suck on the spot. Will elbows him, and hisses, “Knock it off.”

“Are you with someone?” Jack asks skeptically. “Because if that’s the reason why you’re calling out-”

“No, Jack,” Will cuts him off. “The dogs are just getting restless.”

“Right,” Jack huffs. “Well, I’ll call later, then.”

“Bye, Jack.” 

Will hangs his phone up and tosses it back on his nightstand, then turns to look at Hannibal who is smirking at him. 

“You asshole. Jack thinks I’m staying home to fuck someone,” Will groans. 

“You could,” Hannibal shrugs.

“Yeah, maybe after I take an entire bottle of aspirin and die,” Will says, only half joking. “It feels like I’m hungover ten times over, but I barely drank last night.”

“You haven’t been feeling well,” Hannibal says. “Likely just a bad morning.”

“Yeah,” Will sighs. “It’s the Ripper, by the way. That’s why Jack called.”

“I heard. It’s good of you to put your foot down,” Hannibal says and gets up from the bed. He walks towards the bathroom and Will can hear the medicine cabinet open, then shut again, and Hannibal comes back to the bed with a bottle of aspirin in his hand. “Here.”

“Thanks,” Will says gratefully and takes the bottle from Hannibal, washing down two pills with the glass of water. “Do you have to leave soon?” 

“My morning patient cancelled, so I don’t have to leave until noon. If you’ll have me that long.”

“What time is it now?” Will asks, but he does not wait for an answer and picks up his phone to see it’s barely after six. “Mm, come lay down.” 

Hannibal lays back down on his side of the bed and Will picks up his laptop from the floor underneath to write an email to all of his students saying classes are cancelled. He shuts his laptop and slides it under the bed, then rolls over and faces Hannibal. 

Will’s eyes flutter shut as Hannibal pushes his hair away from his forehead, then leans forehead to kiss the top of his head. 

“Hey, Hannibal?” 

“Yes, Will?”

“If you ever leave a crime scene that the FBI gets called to, you’ll tell me, right? So I don’t give anything away about you?” Will asks softly. He moves closer to Hannibal and nuzzles his face into the other man’s neck. “They believe anything I say. I can change the motive, or change the profile. Anything.”

“Of course, Will. Though, I do not plan on killing anyone anytime soon. Especially now that the Ripper is active again, I wouldn’t want to place another killer in your head,” Hannibal whispers into the top of Will’s head. He wraps his arms around Will, tugging their bodies close and tangling their legs. “Get some more sleep.” 

Will manages to sleep for an hour more before the dogs do actually start waking up. He opens his eyes slowly as a wet nose starts to nuzzle the back of his neck. Extracting himself from Hannibal’s embrace rouses the other man and causes him to pull Will back into bed, holding tighter. 

“I have to take care of the dogs,” Will says. Hannibal makes a low groaning noise and it causes Will to laugh. “Come on, I’ll be back in five minutes.”

* * *

  
  


Hannibal lets go, very reluctantly, and Will gets out of the bed. Hannibal can hear the dogs scrambling on the hardwood floor the second the front door opens. 

“Are you feeling better?” Hannibal asks across the room, watching Will as he stands, looking out the screen of the storm door. 

“A bit, yeah. Still tired,” Will shrugs. “I’ll feed them then come back to bed.” 

Hannibal nods and rolls onto his back. He doesn’t know if he necessarily feels _bad_ for Will, and he certainly doesn’t feel _bad_ for what he did, but he does wish Will didn’t feel so many side effects of the sedative. In time, it’s likely Will’s body won’t react so strongly, though he hopes he can use drugs very sparingly on him. 

It would not do any good for Will if he got hooked on drugs he wasn’t even aware he was taking. 

The fact that this worked out so smoothly, that Will thinks Hannibal was in bed with him all night, that there’s no way Hannibal could be the Chesapeake Ripper, is almost enough to make Hannibal jump for joy. That plan worked, but at the same time- that’s not what he wanted to happen. He really did want Will to know at some point soon, but now that’s out of the question.

He made the decision to drug Will and follow through with leaving this display when he did and now he has to wait it out longer than originally planned. He may still be able to have the dinner party he had thought about, but Will does know about the meat, and Will may get suspicious if Hannibal says he hasn’t killed recently and still hosts a party. 

Hannibal is pulled from his thoughts when the door opens and the dogs come running back in, excitedly running around Will’s legs. He watches as Will stumbles towards the kitchen and hears the dogs’ bowls get filled with food. 

Will comes out of the kitchen and crosses the living room, disappearing into the bathroom for several minutes. When he comes back out, he’s drying his hands on his boxers shorts and Hannibal can smell toothpaste from across the room. 

“You told me you bought me clothes,” Will states as he gets back into bed. He moved across the bed on his knees and straddles Hannibal’s hips. 

“Yes. It’s not much, just a suit. And it’s not tailored either, but there isn’t enough time before tomorrow, so it’ll have to do,” Hannibal explains. He rests his hands on Will’s thighs and looks up at him. “I also bought you a few sweaters like the one you stole from me.” 

“You know it’s not the sweater I like so much, right?” Will laughs. Hannibal raises an eyebrow, pretending he has no idea. He just wants to see if Will is going to say it. “You idiot. It’s because it’s _yours.”_

“Well,” Hannibal says with a smile. “I suppose I’ll have to take them back, then.” 

“No,” Will says quickly. “I’ll keep them.” He leans down and kisses Hannibal. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” Hannibal smiles against his mouth. “You seem to be feeling better.” 

“I’m exhausted if I’m being honest,” Will says. He slides his knees out from under him so his legs are no longer holding him up and he settles down on top of Hannibal. 

“Sleep, then,” Hannibal whispers into the top of his head. He wraps his arms around Will’s back. 

“Here? I can move if I’m crushing you,” Will mumbles into Hannibal’s neck. 

“Here.” 

Will’s breathing evens out, but Hannibal doesn’t attempt to sleep just yet. He savors the feeling of Will’s full weight on top of him, so trusting in his arms. It’s an odd feeling, but Hannibal knows he’s falling in love more with each heartbeat against his own. 

Eventually Will makes a noise that sounds like he’s waking, mumbles something incoherent into Hannibal’s neck, then rolls off of him. Will settles back down on his side of the bed and falls asleep again within seconds. 

Hannibal gets up and uses the restroom, brushes his teeth with the toothbrush Will had for him last time then walks back out into the living room. The dogs look up at him while he walks across the room to Will’s dresser and he looks for the sweater Will borrowed. It’s folded neatly in one of the drawers and he pulls it out and on, then puts on his pants from the night before. 

Once dressed, he goes into the kitchen and starts making breakfast for the both of them, hoping Will feels up to it. As he’s finishing up the cooking, and he’s about to go wake Will, Will beats him to it and stumbles into the kitchen. 

“Breakfast?” Hannibal asks as he sets the plates down on the kitchen table. Will goes right to the coffee maker and pours himself a cup. Hannibal is going to buy him a better coffee machine eventually, and better coffee for that matter, but Will still looks grateful.

“Hm, let me go put some pants on,” Will says, setting his mug down on the table and walking out of the kitchen again. When he comes back he’s in a long sleeve shirt and a pair of jeans. He looks at Hannibal. “That’s my sweater.”

“Ah, it’s mine, if you recall. You may have it back when I’m done with it. Or you can choose any sweater from my closet next time you come over.” 

Will sits down at the table in front of a plate and Hannibal drops a kiss to the top of his head as he passes him to get to his own seat. 

“How many appointments do you have today?” Will asks after he swallows down several bites of his breakfast. 

“Two,” Hannibal responds. “When do you think Jack is going to bring over the crime scene photos?”

“Hard to say. Could be in twenty minutes, could be tomorrow. Whenever he finds time,” Will shrugs. “Thanks for breakfast. I do feel a lot better, I guess I just needed to sleep it off.”

“Hm, yes,” Hannibal says, pretending to be contemplative. “You haven’t been sleeping well and it is finally catching up to your body.” 

Will nods and takes several long sips of coffee. “What’s the plan for tomorrow, then?” 

“The event starts at six, so if you’d like to come over early for a light dinner, we could do that, but it would be quite early, likely 4 or 4:30. Otherwise we could eat after and you can arrive at my house at five.” 

“Which would you prefer?” 

“I would prefer dinner after, but only if you eat lunch tomorrow. I wouldn’t expect you to wait that long to eat,” Hannibal says. 

“Sure, I will eat lunch tomorrow, and we can do after.” 

Hannibal can tell there’s a question Will wants to ask, but won’t. 

“You can stay over tomorrow night, if you wish. It will be late to drive home from Baltimore,” Hannibal answers anyway. 

“Sure. If you want me to.”

“Yes, Will.” 

They continue to eat their breakfast and when they finish, Hannibal insists on doing all the cleanup. Will just stands, leaning against the counter behind him, and Hannibal can feel those eyes on him, trailing up and down his body. 

Back in the living room, Hannibal pulls the garment bags out of the closet he stuck them in, and lays them on the bed. He unzips the bag while Will hovers in his space behind him to reveal the black suit he wants Will to wear, with the dark blue waistcoat and tie. 

“As I said, it’s not tailored, but it should fit well enough. Eventually I will be taking you to my tailor,” Hannibal repeats. 

“I know, you’ve told me.” 

Will wraps his arms around Hannibal’s waist from behind and pushes his face into Hannibal’s neck. His hands run up and down Hannibal’s stomach and chest, and then he pulls away and goes to the other shopping bags sitting next to the closet. 

“Are these my sweaters?”

Hannibal turns and looks. “Among other things, yes. I may have gone slightly overboard.”

“You don’t need to buy me things, Hannibal,” Will says, walking back towards the bed. He cracks a smile. “You know, though, Beverly did say I should ask you to be my sugar daddy.”

Hannibal nearly chokes at that. “While I would not use that term, I suppose I am not opposed to the concept. I’ll buy you anything you want, Will. I have more than enough money to do so.” 

Will looks like he’s considering it. “I’m not going to say yes.”

“But you aren’t going to say no,” Hannibal finishes what he left unsaid. 

Will ignores him and pulls out all of the clothes and lays them out on his bed. There’s sweaters, button down shirts, a few ties, some nice pants. 

“If anything doesn’t fit, just tell me, and I can return it,” Hannibal says, softly. 

Will turns and kisses him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” 

* * *

When Hannibal is collecting his clothes from the night before, preparing to leave, there’s a knock on Will’s front door. Both men freeze and look at each other. 

“Go hide upstairs,” Will whispers, getting up from where he sits to push Hannibal towards the staircase. 

“Will, I have to leave _now_ if I want to stop home to change,” Hannibal whispers back.

“Well, you can’t, so go upstairs and I’ll come get you when they’re gone. I think it’s Jack.” 

Hannibal goes up the stairs and Will goes to the front door and sighs in relief when it’s Beverly, and not Jack Crawford. 

“Fuck, Bev. I thought you were Jack,” Will laughs. 

“I offered to come because I had a feeling Lecter was here,” Beverly says. “He’s not, though? His car’s not out there.”

“No, he parks in the barn,” Will says. He goes to the staircase. “Baby, you can come down. It’s Beverly.”

Hannibal comes rushing down the stairs, puts his shoes on, then his jacket, and he’s about to walk right through the door, when he turns suddenly, and wraps his arms around Will’s waist and pulls him close. 

“I will see you tomorrow. Come over early if you’d like,” Hannibal whispers. He kisses Will once, pulls away, then apparently decides that wasn’t enough because he goes in for another. “Okay. Bye, darling.”

“Bye,” Will says. He can tell he’s smiling as Hannibal hurries towards the barn to get into his car. When he’s out of sight, Will closes the front door and turns to look at Beverly. She’s smirking.

“You guys are sickeningly cute,” she says. She holds out a folder. “I have Ripper photos for you.”

Will takes them with a nod. “Thanks. Autopsy?”

“Today, as soon as I get back. Are you feeling better?” 

“Yeah, I just needed some good sleep and a good meal,” Will shrugs. “I’ll come in.”

“I can give you a ride, if you want? We can take a minute to look at these photos.”

Will nods. “Sure. Yeah. You guys really think we’ll figure anything out?”

“It’s worth a shot, but it’s the Ripper. He’s not going to screw up on the first kill after two years, you know?”

“Yeah. He’s had a long time to prepare,” Will agrees. He opens up the folder to look at the displayed body. “What flowers are these?”

“You’ll have to talk to Jimmy about them. He’s the walking encyclopedia,” Beverly shrugs. “He was listing meanings for them and it mostly just says there’s danger, that we should be cautious, that the Ripper is pissed.”

“I mean, we already knew that would be the case if he came back,” Will shrugs. He glances over the photos again, but doesn’t let himself go into the Ripper’s head. He can do it with photos like these, but he’d rather wait until he’s on his own. “I’ll look these over later, then. I’ll get dressed in something else and we can leave.”

Will puts on one of his new sweaters and a pair of slacks that Hannibal bought him. They fit good, too good. He’s sure Hannibal went through his drawers to find his pants sizes, but he doesn’t find it weird. Maybe he should. 

When he comes out of the bathroom, Beverly looks him up and down and nods approvingly. “He buy you those clothes?”

“Yes. I told him what you said about him being my sugar daddy.”

Beverly looks mortified. “What did he say?”

“He said and I quote- ‘While I would not use that term, I suppose I am not opposed to the concept,’ and then said he’ll buy me anything I want,” Will tells her. He goes to the closet by the door to find a pair of shoes, then pulls them on. 

“I hope you said yes,” Beverly says. 

“I didn’t say no,” Will laughs. “Ah fuck. Hold on, I should let the dogs out for a while before we leave.”

At the words, the dogs come running to the door and Will opens it for them. He and Beverly stand out on the front porch, watching the dogs run around the yard. 

“Is Jack pissed I wouldn’t come out today?” Will asks. 

“Yeah, kind of. He was told before though, so he can’t blame you. Plus if Lecter is saying to keep you out, Jack thinks that’s his opinion as your psychiatrist.”

“You can call him Hannibal, you know. You don’t have to call him by his last name.” 

“It feels weird to be on a first name basis with him.”

“I guess,” Will shrugs. “I find myself still calling him Doctor Lecter sometimes.”

“Either Doctor Lecter, or baby, huh?” Beverly teases. 

Will feels his face go warm in the chilly fall air and he ignores her in favor of calling the dogs back inside. 

“Calling him ‘baby,’ was impulsive the first time I did it, but the way he… reacted made me want to keep doing it,” Will says.

“How did he react?” Beverly asks as they start walking down the porch steps to her car. 

“Well, uh…”

“You guys were in bed weren’t you?” Beverly asks when he trails off. 

“Yeah.”

“Say no more. I get it,” Beverly says, throwing her hands up in surrender. She laughs quietly, but Will catches it and raises an eyebrow. She shakes her head and says, “Can’t believe you’re fucking your psychiatrist, Will.”

Will feels the corner of his lips attempt to pull into a smile, but he forces it down. “Not technically my psychiatrist.”

“No, of course not.” 

In the car, on the way to Quantico, Beverly breaks their silence after a solid fifteen minutes.

“At least those hickeys are fading, but he’s got some now, too. _And_ he was wearing that goddamn sweater you insisted was yours.”

Will’s hand goes to his own neck, having forgotten they were there, really, and he smiles. “Yeah. He said I can take any of his sweaters next time I go to his house.”

“Jesus, how are you guys _this_ in love already?”

“We’re no-”

Beverly cuts him off. “If you’re about to say you’re not in love, I’m crashing this car.”

“Seriously, Bev.”

“Will, if you’re in denial, that’s fine. The way he looked at you today, though? He’s the most polite man I’ve met but he didn’t even say hello to me. It was like you were the only person in the world for him.”

“That doesn’t really mean anything.” 

“It means everything. If he doesn’t say he loves you within the next month, then you can say I was wrong,” Beverly says. 

“Even if he does, I’m sure it would take longer than that for him to come out and say it,” Will shrugs. If he’s being honest, he doesn’t know if Hannibal is capable of such feelings. 

Hannibal kills people, Will knows that much, but he doesn’t know _enough._ If Hannibal’s another killer, like he insinuated, then it’s possible he can’t feel love. But that can’t be right, right? Not with the way he’s treated Will thus far. 

“So, he stayed over last night? And you stayed at his house the night before?”

“Yeah.”

“And you have a date tomorrow, did I hear that correctly?” Beverly asks. 

“Yes.”

“I cannot wait to get the call about an engagement,” Beverly teases. 

Will just shakes his head. When Hannibal asked him out in Minnesota, Will was skeptical they would even make it past a first date. That was just over a week ago, but now they’re inseparable, it seems. 

Could he love a killer? He asked Hannibal early on why he doesn’t hate him and now that’s all starting to settle into his mind. He shouldn’t continue this, he should tell Beverly right now, see what he should do, and get Hannibal locked up. He can’t though, he can’t. He doesn’t know why, but he can’t. 

There is no way of knowing how Hannibal truly feels about him, not with his defenses built so high that Will can’t see over the walls, not even with his gift. Will shudders at the idea that all of this is just a way to placate Will and keep him in Hannibal’s line of sight, as to not be arrested. 

“Will?” Beverly asks, pulling him out of his reverie. “Are you okay?”

Will swallows audibly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” 

“Look, if the marriage talk freaks you out, I get it. I won’t joke about it anymore. I know how soon it is,” she says. 

Will notices they’re in the Quantico parking lot now, the car no longer running. He wonders how long he was in his thoughts for. 

“No, no, it’s okay. I just got lost in thought.” 

In reality it _does_ freak him out, but not for reasons he can actually tell her. He’s feeling the need to withdraw from Hannibal, just as he had the night they had sex in Hannibal’s bed and it felt way too intimate. He stores these thoughts away for later and gets out of Beverly’s car. 

Inside the lab, Will greets Jimmy and Brian, and it turns out Jack will not be in attendance which makes Will sigh in relief. 

“Tell me about the flowers, then,” Will requests, coming to stand in front of the table where they’re all laid out, away from the body. 

“Right, so a lot of these have double meanings– canna lilies,” Jimmy points out. “Symbolizes glory and power, which would be on par for the Ripper, wanting to claim his glory and exhibit his power.”

“And the other meaning?” Will asks. 

“Beauty and perfection,” Jimmy answers. “Now that _could_ apply to his kills, as that’s how he likely sees them, so this one isn’t quite as confusing as the others.” 

Jimmy points to another type of flower and continues, “This one, oleander means caution, or danger, which makes perfect sense and is a warning that the Ripper is not playing around.”

“And the confusing part?”

“It can also symbolize everlasting love, and romance, among other related things,” Jimmy says with a shrug. “We think maybe he just means the caution part and was limited on the number of flowers with only single meanings.”

“And the others?”

“Poppies,” Jimmy points. “Can symbolize death, which duh. But there’s also sleep, peace, pleasure, and a few other things.”

“Right, so. We’re just assuming it’s death and not the other things then?” Will asks. He looks over the rest of the flowers. 

“The Chesapeake Ripper is a psychopath, he has no capacity for love, so yeah,” Brian steps in. 

“But we don’t actually know him, we’re just assuming all of this,” Will responds. “Sure, he may be a psychopath, and I’m not entirely sure they don’t have a capacity for love, but let’s take a minute and explore our possibilities here,” Will says and looks down at the flowers again. “Are these petunias?”

“Yes,” Jimmy answers. “Anger and resentment. Or desire and hope.”

“Okay so let’s consider this idea, then. I’m assuming all of the flowers have double meanings like that? Something on par with feelings regarding murder, or taking back what is his? And then another symbolizing something involving love?” On Jimmy’s nods, Will continues, “I am assuming the Ripper at least did a single google search. I’m sure there are tons of flowers with each meaning, are there not? Several for anger, several for glory, caution. So why choose ones that also symbolize love, desire, pleasure, romance, peace, sleep?”

“You think the Ripper is sending two messages?” Beverly asks. 

Will shrugs. “Possibly. I mean, if I found someone and was spending my time with them, loved them, felt at peace with them, slept with them, et cetera, and a killer tried to copy my work, then maybe that resentment is placed because he’s being torn from his lover.”

“So, you think the Ripper’s been in hiding for two years because he’s taken a lover?” Brian asks. 

“Maybe? The Ripper might be trying to send two messages here. This display could be an offering for their lover, I mean who doesn’t like flowers? But it could also be to prove a point that he’s not gone, and that if anyone tries to take away his glory, he’ll be there to set things straight,” Will says. “Or maybe even that these feelings of resentment aren’t even towards the copycat, but resentment towards killing because it takes time away from his partner.”

“The Ripper doesn’t want to rip anymore?” Jimmy asks. 

Will shrugs again. “I’m just throwing out ideas here. What organs were taken?” He asks, changing the subject away from flowers. 

“The heart,” Brian answers casually, then looks up from the body, glancing at everyone in the room. 

Jimmy throws his hands in the air. “Well, of fucking course! The Ripper’s in love!” 

“Well, shit.” Beverly responds. “Can’t wait to tell Jack this one.”

Will’s phone starts buzzing in his pocket and he pulls it out to see Hannibal’s name. “One second guys, I gotta take this.”

He steps out of the room and shuts the door behind him the hits accept on the call.

“Hey,” Will answers.

“Hello, Will. I’m between appointments and I was wondering how you were feeling?”

“Better. I’m uh, at Quantico right now looking over the Ripper victim,” Will says. 

“Hm, find anything helpful?” Hannibal asks. 

“No, just that he might have taken a lover and doesn’t want to kill anymore because of it,” Will says, breathing out a laugh at how ridiculous it sounds. “Anyways. How are you?”

“I’m well. Thinking about you a lot.”

“You’ve grown too attached, Doctor Lecter,” Will says. He lowers his voice, “I’ve been thinking about you too, though.” 

“Oh, have you?” Hannibal asks, very flirtatiously. “And what about me have you been thinking?”

“That I need to get back in the lab before this conversation goes somewhere it shouldn’t,” Will responds. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yes, of course. I’ll let you get back to it,” Hannibal says.

“Bye.” And Will hangs up without another word. 

Will walks back in to see Jimmy and Brian staring at him. 

“Who was that?” Jimmy asks. 

“Oh. Doctor Lecter. We cancelled last night because I was sick and he wanted to see if I’m doing better,” Will lies. 

“Oh yeah, Jack told us you were sick,” Jimmy nods. 

They drop the subject and start poking at the body, looking for any sort of evidence left over. Of course, there’s nothing at all. 

“So why _does_ the Ripper take organs?” Brian asks after a while. 

“This one is symbolic,” Will tells him. “The heart was taken, just as his love may be taken away if he has to continue killing. Or something like that.”

“Right; not only was the victim surrounded by flowers, but there was a small arrangement in the cavity left behind,” Beverly nods. “So what, the Ripper just has hearts, kidneys and brains in jars then?” 

Will shrugs. “Probably.”

He remembers what Hannibal does with organs… but what are the odds of two cannibals in the Baltimore area, right? And Hannibal was with him all night, and had promised to tell Will if he leaves a crime scene. So it’s not him. He keeps his thoughts to himself, regardless. 

“God, when we find this guy and get a warrant for his house, we’re gonna have a field day,” Jimmy muses. 

The rest of it goes on, Will zones out until he's addressed directly, Jack stops in briefly to see what they’ve found and they tell him. 

When there’s nothing else they can possibly do, no more skin to look at for prints, no more hair to comb through for fibers, they pack up the body and put him in a drawer in the morgue for later. 

“You wanna get something to eat?” Beverly asks as they walk out of the lab together. 

“Sure. I haven’t eaten since breakfast. I was left with a prepared lunch in my fridge, but,” Will shrugs. “Came here instead.”

“He’s making you meals for when he’s not around to cook for you?’

“Yeah, he stocked my entire kitchen because he thinks I’m not eating right,” Will shrugs. “I’m not sure how I feel about all of it.”

“Well, tell him to back off if it feels like coddling. I mean, he knows you’re a grown man, right?” 

Will laughs. “I am sure he does. He just… it’s probably the doctor in him trying to take care of me.”

“Right, but you don’t like being taken care of.”

“I mean, I’ve been alone my whole life, really. All of my relationships have been random and short lived, and not with, well, not with a doctor, you know? I’m not used to it.”

They get into Beverly’s car and she drives towards a restaurant. 

“Tell him that. Set a boundary, honestly.” 

“Yeah, I think I will. He told me he wanted to make lunches for me, and I said he doesn’t have to, but of course he pulled that, ‘I want to,’ card,” Will says. “Maybe I’ll call him when I get home tonight.” 

“Good idea,” Beverly nods. 

They eat, and they talk quietly about the Ripper victim, when they think the next victim will drop, then they talk about Hannibal more. It seems their conversations always circle back to Hannibal. 

Will picks up the check, paying for both of their meals, and Beverly drives Will home. When he gets home, he lets the dogs out, feeds them, then takes a shower. 

He sits down on the couch and opens his laptop, answers emails from students, looks up the list of flowers Jimmy gave him. Some websites say different things, but ultimately it comes down to what they talked about. Will wonders who the Ripper could possibly be in love with. He wonders if the person knows about their partner’s proclivities, or not. 

The entire time he has been home, he has been trying to work up the nerve to call Hannibal. They’ve been so honest so far, and Hannibal’s been so understanding, but for some reason Will is having trouble with wanting to set that boundary. 

He goes through his regular nightly routines and forgets about the call, letting his nerves settle. It turns out he doesn’t need to make the call because just as he’s getting ready for bed, his phone starts ringing on his nightstand. 

“Hey, baby,” Will answers. “I was just thinking about calling you.”

“Were you?” Hannibal asks. 

“Yeah, I, um, I wanted to talk to you about something, actually,” Will says, nervous again. 

“Hm, what about?” Hannibal asks, calm as ever. His voice has a certain soothing quality, the way he purrs over the line causes Will to relax minutely. 

“I was just thinking about… Hannibal, I don’t want you buying me groceries or doing meal prep for me,” Will says, rushed and uncertain.

“Okay,” Hannibal says as if it’s the most simple thing in the world, and Will supposes that he’s the only one making a big deal out of it. “I hope you have not been letting that thought affect you all day, darling.”

Will sighs. “Maybe a bit.” 

“Oh, Will,” Hannibal says. “You needn’t worry about talking to me. It is good that we’re setting boundaries, but we can’t do this without honesty.”

Will settles down on his bed and stares at the ceiling, holding his phone to his ear. “I know that,” he says after a stretch of silence that likely lasted too long. “It’s just that, I guess after so many years of living on my own, I’m not comfortable with you caring for me like that.”

“Will, you don’t have to explain yourself,” Hannibal says. “I understand.” 

“I know. You’re good at that. At understanding, I mean.” 

Hannibal makes a satisfied noise, then changes the subject entirely. “I actually had something to talk to you about, as well.”

“Oh, yeah?” Will asks. 

“Mhm, unfortunately I’m going to have to cancel tomorrow,” Hannibal says softly. 

“Oh,” Will says, disappointed. Not that he would even enjoy the event, but he was looking forward to seeing Hannibal. “Okay. Why?”

“I forgot that I made prior commitments. I was reminded today,” Hannibal says with a sigh. “I need to go out of town for a psychiatric conference. I would cancel that, but I promised to drive with Alana.”

“Oh,” Will says. Suddenly he feels jealous, even though Hannibal promised there’s nothing between the two. 

“Yes. So you can see, I can hardly tell her that I have a date tomorrow. I’m sorry, Will. I know this is very last minute, and you wanted to see me. I want to see you, too,” Hannibal whispers. 

“Hannibal, it’s okay. When do you come back?” 

“Tuesday? Possibly Wednesday,” Hannibal says. “Maybe I can come over that night to see you. If you want me to.”

“You’ll be tired from travelling,” Will says. “Don’t make plans with me until you know for sure you’ll be up to it.”

“Okay, Will.” 

Hannibal sounds defeated, and Will realizes he sounded passive aggressive and bitter when he said it. 

“Hannibal, I… That sounded rude, I’m sorry. Of course I want to see you when you get back. Give me a call, okay?”

“I will. Goodnight, Will.” 

“Night.”

Will continues staring at the ceiling, clutching his phone in his hand long after Hannibal ends the call. He thinks he royally fucked this up. That’s what he wanted though, isn’t it? Some space between them, to withdraw, to stop himself from falling in love with a killer. 

He can’t help but think Hannibal is lying about something- whether it be the convention, or that he’s not fucking Alana, too. Will realizes it’s entirely possible that Hannibal lied just because of what Will requested of him. It’s impossible to know.

Calling Alana for confirmation is out of the question, too. He can’t exactly pick up the phone and say ‘Hey Alana, are you fucking my boyfriend?’ or ‘Hey, Alana, my boyfriend said he needed to cancel a date because there’s an out of town psychiatry convention he somehow forgot about. Is he telling me the truth, or should I be worried?’ No, that’s all out of the question. 

Will doesn’t plug in his phone before he falls asleep, doesn’t even take off his pants or sweater. Both things were a big mistake. He wakes up from a nightmare gasping, feeling suffocated in the clothes. He reaches for Hannibal in the dark before he remembers he’s alone. So alone. 

The next thing he thinks to do is call Hannibal, but his phone is dead in his hand and he’s shaking too hard to get the charger in the port, so he lays back down in defeat after peeling off all of his clothes so he’s just in his underwear. He can’t even remember the nightmare, but he’s terrified. He is sure it had a similar theme of the others. Stag, Hobbs, killing Abigail. They’re all the same. 

“Winston,” Will calls out into the dark, and he can hear the dog get up from his bed and move across the floor, nails clicking on the hardwood. Will pats the space next to him in bed. “Come on, buddy.”

Winston pulls himself up onto the bed and curls up next to Will. Will tangles his fingers in the dog’s fur and lets the steady breathing lull him back to sleep. 

In the morning, Will wakes up early, takes care of the dogs, makes himself breakfast, and then decides to go fishing. He hasn’t touched his phone since trying to call Hannibal during the night, and he doesn’t particularly care what he misses. 

He catches a few fish and brings them home, cleaning them, then freezing the ones he isn’t going to eat today.

When he finally decides to find his phone, where it’s dead and tangled in his blankets, he plugs it in and sees two missed calls from Hannibal, as well as a text. 

_Your phone must be dead. Give me a call._

And Will puts his phone back down to charge, does not _give him a call_ and takes the dogs for a long walk, throwing sticks for them and letting them chase squirrels for nearly two hours until they’re thoroughly worn out. Even when he returns home and sees two more missed calls, he doesn’t return them. He doesn’t listen to the voicemail, either, and starts making dinner instead.

* * *

Hannibal wishes he didn’t have to go on this trip with Alana, but he promised, and he never breaks his promises. He really cannot believe he got the weekends mixed up; he thought it was the following weekend, and usually he would never mess something like this up, but with his attention on Will and reviving the Ripper, it completely slipped his mind until Alana called him asking what time they would leave. 

Will seems to have not taken the news well, that’s for sure. He knows where Will’s mind has likely gone, all the doubts he may feel because of this, and Hannibal wishes more than anything he could show up at Will’s house and hold him tight until Will is sure of Hannibal’s feelings for him. 

There’s a pang of hurt in Hannibal’s heart when Will doesn’t answer his phone in the morning, both calls going straight to voicemail, but he knows how Will forgets to plug in his phone sometimes, so he pushes down that hurt feeling. Until he realizes Will was probably upset the night before, to the point where he let it slip his mind completely. 

Alana picks him up at their agreed upon time, and Hannibal sends Will a text, knowing it’ll go unanswered. All he can think about during the three hour drive from Baltimore to New York City, is how badly he wants to call Will again. 

He can’t call Will while he’s in the car with Alana, though. 

She tries to make conversation several times, but for once, Hannibal can’t engage in it. It used to be easy with her, but the air of flirtation that comes with all of their conversations feels so wrong to him, now that his heart is consumed by Will, and only Will.

Not that he has feelings for Alana, but it was always a fun game to play. He finds her attractive, and a great person to keep around, and if needed he would have had no problems taking her to bed to fulfill a purpose, but that’s not necessary, nor would he want it to be now. 

“You’re very withdrawn, Hannibal,” Alana says halfway through the drive. “You’re never this quiet.”

“I have a lot on my mind this weekend, I suppose.”

“Would you like to talk it through?” Alana asks, using her psychiatrist voice. 

“Thank you, but no.” 

“Well, if you change your mind, I know a good therapist,” Alana jokes. Hannibal forces a smile at that and they fall back into silence. 

After another twenty minutes of silence, Hannibal asks if Alana can pull over at a restroom, so she pulls into the next gas station.

Hannibal gets out of the car and calls Will again. He’s hopeful when the call rings, knowing Will’s phone is on now, but when it keeps ringing, it’s clear the call won’t be answered. 

He goes in, uses the restroom, then buys a coffee, knowing it’s going to be terrible. He buys one for Alana too, and takes it back out to the car, where she waits. She doesn’t say a word beyond ‘thanks,’ when he hands her the coffee, and he’s grateful for the silence. 

When they finally arrive at their hotel, and get to their shared room, Hannibal sets his bag on his bed and tells Alana he’s going for a walk to stretch his legs after the journey.

“Want company?” Alana asks. 

“I’d rather be alone,” Hannibal says and leaves the room. 

He waits until he’s in the lobby of the hotel before dialling Will’s number again and holding the phone to his ear. He walks down the street in front of the hotel as it rings, and rings, and rings. He didn’t want to leave a message, but he feels like he has to. 

“Darling, I understand if you’re away from your phone right now and just haven’t seen my calls, but if you’re ignoring me, then I will give you any space you desire, and I hope to speak with you whenever you’re ready. I arrived in New York City with Alana about five minutes ago, and we have to share a room, so if you call back and I don’t answer, it’s nothing personal. If I did something to upset you, Will, I really hope I didn’t, but if I did, I would be more than willing to talk it through,” Hannibal says softly. “Have a good night, Will.” 

He shoves his phone back in his pocket and continues walking, feeling the need to blow off some steam. Perhaps find someone to kill if there’s someone rude enough. Which, Hannibal is certain there’ll be someone in New York City that makes him mad enough. He shakes his head, pulling himself out of that mindset. He doesn’t have the means to kill anyone this weekend. 

* * *

Will finishes his dinner and settles down on the couch in front of the TV. He doesn’t exactly know why he’s ignoring Hannibal, but it feels like the right decision. He was supposed to be out with him, going back to his house, they were going to fuck, no doubt, and probably take another bath together, but… But Hannibal cancelled their plans. And Will convinces himself it’s because Hannibal doesn’t want to see him tonight. 

And it hurts. 

Once he gets in this mindset, it’s impossible to get out of. He feels unwanted, and like he’s a second choice. Which, he is in this case. Second to Alana, of all people. 

Will gets up and goes to the table where he keeps his liquor, forgoing a cup, and bringing a bottle of whiskey back to the couch. 

He drinks throughout the entire movie he turns on, and when the end credits roll across the screen, he realizes he has had more than enough. He gets up on unsteady feet, goes to the bathroom to piss, then goes back into the living room to collect the dogs and opens the door for them one last time before bed. 

Finally, he decides he can listen to the voicemail Hannibal left, and he’s happy to be called _darling,_ but when Hannibal reveals he’s sharing a room with Alana, Will feels nothing but jealousy and pain. 

He doesn’t even wait to hear the rest of the message before he hits the call button. 

“Hello?” Hannibal answers after a second. 

“Hey, baby,” Will slurs. He doesn’t mean to say it, he’s _mad,_ but he also knows how much he loves when Hannibal hears it. Will shakes his head vigorously, trying to get back on track. “Are you alone?”

“I can be, just one second,” Hannibal responds. Will hears movement, a door open and shut, and then Hannibal asks, “Are you drunk, Will?”

“Yeah,” Will laughs. “Because you didn’t want to see me tonight, so I had nothing to do but drink.” And there it is, the point he wanted to make. 

“Will, that’s not-”

“No, no Hannibal, no I get it, don’t worry. You’re spending time with _Alana Bloom,”_ Will sneers. “Because I’m not enough for you, right?”

“Will, darling, that’s not at all the case. It’s you, and only you for me. I told you that,” Hannibal says. 

“Uh huh. I think I do need space, actually, you’re right. Have fun with Alana,” Will says. 

“I respect your wishes, but I’d very much like to discuss this when you’re sober, darling,” Hannibal responds. 

Will barks out a laugh. “Sure, Hannibal. I’m sure you’d love to have this conversation when I’m sober, because right now I’m distracting you from what you really want to be doing.”

“Will.” 

“Good night, Doctor Lecter,” Will says and hangs up the phone. He feels satisfied with that. Cutting Hannibal off before things can get too serious, before he can get hurt because Will is certain Hannibal’s affections lie elsewhere. 

Will undresses and gets into bed, instantly falling asleep. 

* * *

Hannibal listens as the line disconnects before he can say anything more. How far they’ve strayed in such a short amount of time, how Hannibal has screwed up the best thing he’s had because he made a simple mistake. He goes back into the hotel room, knowing tears are welling in his eyes. Another unfamiliar experience for him. He hasn’t cried in years, and now he feels the tightening of his throat, and the warmth in his face, the tears threatening to fall. 

Alana looks over at him when he closes the door again.

“Hannibal?” Her voice is so concerned, and Hannibal wants to kill her. He wants to kill her for being the reason Will feels this way. But he can’t.

“Ah, just received some difficult news,” Hannibal lies. “It’s alright.”

“What happened?” 

“An old friend from Italy passed today, unfortunately,” Hannibal lies again. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Hannibal,” Alana says and gets off her bed. Hannibal thinks for a split second that if she tries to hug him, he’ll snap her neck and flee the country. Instead, his arms just come around her when she embraces him, and he lets himself be held, and lets the tears fall into her hair. 

“I’m okay, Alana. I’m going to sleep now,” Hannibal whispers and pulls himself away from the woman. 

He goes into the bathroom, brushes his teeth, and changes into pajamas, putting on the sweater Will had borrowed for days, which now smells like the both of them combined. He holds the collar to his nose and inhales as deeply as he can, then lets it drop and steps out of the bathroom, pulling his mask back on to appear like everything’s perfectly fine. 

Hannibal doesn’t look at Alana as he crosses the room and gets into his own bed. He turns off his lamp and curls up on his side, facing away from her, then pulls the blankets up to his chin. 

Sleep does not come easily. 

In the morning, he apologizes to Alana, then books the next flight home. 

* * *

When Will wakes up, he’s more hungover than he’s been in a long time. There’s a missed call from Hannibal, as well as a text. He groans at the pain in his head and reads it. 

_I’m coming home today. My flight lands at eleven. If you don’t want to see me, ignore this. If you do, call me._

The conversation from the night before comes flooding back to him and Will feels guilty. Hannibal cancelled his plans for the weekend and came home because he knows Will is upset, and Will feels guilty. He should have just believed Hannibal, but he couldn’t do that. He had to fuck it up. 

Will doesn’t call. He can’t face the things he said to Hannibal. 

He knows he’s making it worse by ignoring this, but he can’t bring himself to call, or text, or show up at Hannibal’s house. Instead, he goes to visit Abigail.

“Didn’t want to bring your boyfriend?” Abigail teases as they walk through the greenhouse at Port Haven.

“We’re, ah, taking some space from each other,” Will shrugs. 

“What happened?”

“I said some things I shouldn’t have? I was drunk and upset.”

They sit down on a bench and Abigail turns to look at him.

“You two are good for each other. Whatever it was, I’m sure he’ll forgive you.”

“It’s not that,” Will shakes his head. “I’m… I already know he forgives me, and he wants to talk about it, but it’s me. I can’t forgive myself.”

“Well, I hope you find it in you to forgive yourself. I need you guys,” Abigail says softly. “I… Will, I was the lure. For my dad.” 

“I know, Abigail,” Will says. He pulls her into a hug and feels her shudder, sobbing against his chest. “I know.” 

“We would be on college tours, and he would have me befriend the girls. I couldn’t tell anyone, Will. I didn’t want to do it,” Abigail sobs. 

“I know. But you’re going to deny all of that. You’re going to say you never spoke to any of the girls, that you always thought you and your dad were just on regular college tours, and you found it weird that girls were going missing from your school choices, but there was no way for you to know,” Will says quietly. There’s no one around to hear their conversation, but he knows this shouldn’t be a conversation for this setting. “We’re going to help you. Whether Hannibal and I are together or not, we won’t let that stop us from helping you in any way we can.”

Abigail sniffles and pulls away from the embrace. “Thanks, Will.”

“You’re welcome, Abigail,” Will smiles weakly. “How would you feel about learning to fish? Next weekend. I’ll check you out of here, you can meet my dogs, we can make a day of it.”

Abigail nods and wipes the tears off her face. “I’d like that.”

When Will leaves Port Haven, he momentarily considers stopping at Hannibal’s house, but knows he should not do it. 

At home, he goes for a long walk with the dogs, cooks himself dinner with some of the food Hannibal brought over the other day, then he sits down in front of his laptop at the kitchen table and starts working on his lectures for the coming week. 

His eyes start to grow heavy around ten, so he crawls naked into bed and lets himself be pulled into a fitful sleep. The nightmares keep waking him up, but he can never remember them, just wakes up shaking, pulls the blankets tighter around him despite how hot he is, and tries to fall back asleep. 

He wakes to his phone ringing and answers. “Yeah?”

“Got a Ripper scene, you up to coming out?” Jack says through the phone. 

Will considers saying no, but he’s upset with himself, he’s upset with Hannibal, and he knows that the Ripper scene will be bad for him. What better to do while upset with himself and his boyfriend, than to become self-destructive and spiteful about Hannibal’s wishes to keep him out of the field for the Chesapeake Ripper?

“Yeah. Text me the address,” Will answers. 

He hangs up and starts pulling on clothes, lets the dogs out and listens for the ping of his message tone. He gets the address and gets into his car after the dogs are inside and settled. 

The Ripper scene is set up just like the last one had been, almost identical to the photos Will saw, but with different flowers. 

“Jimmy? Flowers?” Will asks, the second he pulls up. He knows he’ll have a better read of this scene if he knows what he’s seeing. 

“Yeah, so we have: Saxifrage- devotion, affection, passion,” Jimmy lists off. He’s looking at his phone, likely reading a website about generic meanings. 

“Any other meanings for that one? Involving murder?” Will asks, circling the body.

“Nope. And most of them are like that, too,” Jimmy says. He continues to list them off, “Pulmonaria; can mean ‘you are my life,’ but also symbolizes admiration, devotion, joy. We have Camellias; desire, passion, perfection, longevity. Erysimum symbolizes fidelity. Gardenias; purity, sweetness, joy, secret love. The Ripper put a lot of flowers in this one. You still with me?”

“Yeah, keep going,” Will nods. 

“Red tulips; true, deep, undying love. Aster is patience and elegance. And then we have purple hyacinth. The most common flower used to symbolize regret,” Jimmy finishes.

“This is an apology and a promise, but I think it’s specifically to the partner we discussed on Friday,” Will says. “Heart missing?”

Brain nods, “Chest cavity is stitched back up, very neatly, of course. We’re talking about the Chesapeake Ripper, afterall. We’ll have to wait to see what’s in there until we get back to the lab. Assuming it’s some of these same flowers. That’s how the last one was displayed.”

“Alright,” Will nods and turns to look at Jack.

“Alright! Everyone clear the area, give Will some space,” Jack calls out, and everyone goes scurrying.

Will closes his eyes and let’s the pendulum swing. 

“I tear out your heart physically, just as mine has been, albeit metaphorically. If I can’t have what I want, then neither can you,” Will says, taking over the mindset of the Chesapeake Ripper. “The person I intended this for doesn’t know it’s for them. I am trying to prove my devotion in the only way I know how, but I know it won’t get across in the way I want. There’s no other meaning to this. I’m not responding to a copycat, I’m not warning anyone, I’m making a promise of my love, I’m showing that I regret what I have done in my own way. This is for no one but him and I. This is my design.”

Will stands there for a second, breathing heavy, trying to come back to himself. This one hits too close to home for him, too much of it is what he wants to hear from Hannibal, and he almost wishes he had a lover like the Ripper at this moment. Only because this display is an offering like one he’s never seen. Or he thinks this is a display he should be making for Hannibal, seeing as he’s the one that fucked it all up with that phone call. He shakes his head, trying to vanish the thoughts.

“Will?” Beverly says from behind him. 

He turns to look at her, and he realizes there’s tears streaming down his face. He wipes at the snot coming down from his nose, then wipes away the tears on his face. 

“Sorry, I’m good,” he says softly. “Fuck. It’s basically what we already discussed. He’s trying to prove his devotion in the only way he knows how. I’m sensing there was some sort of misunderstanding between the two, and the Ripper is trying to channel the way he feels into his display because he doesn’t know how to make words out of it.”

“Are you okay?”

“It just hit close to home, I guess,” Will says, looking around to make sure no one else can hear. “I said some really shitty stuff to Hannibal when I was drunk on Saturday night. He had cancelled our date to go out of town on business, and I called him and accused him of cheating. It’s ah. This just hit me in a way… I go into the Ripper’s head, but it feels like he’s already inside mine.” 

“Get out of here, go get some rest. You said it yourself, the Ripper is hard on you,” Beverly says, putting a soothing hand on Will’s shoulder. “It doesn’t help that you’re going through some shit on top of it.”

Will nods and wipes at his cheeks again, wiping away the tears that continue to fall, and won’t stop. “I have to talk to Jack, then I’ll go home.”

“Have you and Hannibal talked? Since the night you called him?”

Will shakes his head. “No, he came home the next morning and texted me, saying to call him if I wanted to see him. I didn’t call.”

“Will, you should call him.”

“I can’t. I can’t face what I said to him, I can’t do it.” 

Beverly pulls him into a hug. “Take your time, then. Call me if you want to eat ice cream and watch shitty movies, okay? You know I’m here for you.”

A sob makes its way out of Will and he nods as he hugs her tighter, so extremely grateful to have her right now. “Yeah. Yeah, thank you, Bev.”

So Will goes and talks to Jack, tells him what he read from the scene, then goes home, claiming a headache (which is true). He tells Jack to call with what they find during the autopsy. 

When he gets home, he finally decides to call Hannibal, but the call goes unanswered and Will’s heart breaks. He doesn’t leave a message, just shuts his phone off and crawls into bed fully clothed. He stares at the ceiling for an hour before his eyes finally grow heavy enough to go back to sleep. 

* * *

Hannibal doesn’t want to ignore Will’s call, but if he answers, he knows he won’t be able to conceal the fact that he’s the Ripper. It will slip, and it will ruin things, even if Will saw the scene, even if he knows the meaning of every flower. Because if Will knows now, he’ll know that Hannibal drugged him, and Hannibal can’t even think of a way to justify that quite yet. No, Hannibal needs time. To figure out how to communicate with Will, and to figure out how to continue seeing Will without hurting him like he already has.

He bared it all with that scene, but he knows murder tableaux are not healthy means of communication, and are not a proper apology for the way he made Will feel. He had thought coming home early would be enough to get Will back into his arms, but Will didn’t call. He ignored the text because he doesn’t want to see him, Hannibal is clear on that. 

It causes a tear in his heart in the shape of Will and he’s already planning the next kill. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for this. Next chapter will have things looking up tho! I promise a happy ending for these two, but we still have a long long way to go until the end of this story. Please leave comments and let me know what you think!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I know I have completely fucked up the timeline and that the lost boys case happens closer to Christmas, but this is my narrative so shhh. And also the flower symbolism is literally just pulled directly off different websites so if any of it’s wrong just pretend it is not. 
> 
> I only proofread about half of this chapter, but I wanted to get it out before I go to sleep so here it is.
> 
> Chapter 5 was uploaded less than two days ago so if you haven’t read that one yet, make sure you do.

Will doesn’t attempt to call Hannibal again after Monday, doesn’t turn down any crime scenes, which has him flying all over the East coast trying to find these lost boys that keep killing their families, saving mothers for last. 

It’s cases like these that Will would usually go to Hannibal for insight, to be steered in a different direction than the one he’s facing. Right now, all he wants is to call him, but Hannibal doesn’t want to hear from him, that much was clear when he didn’t answer on Monday and never called back.

He doesn’t call to cancel his appointment, he doesn’t call to apologize after his no-show. Just as Hannibal doesn’t call to ask why he didn’t come. They have an understanding.

Will misses him. So much it hurts to think about him. And Will finds himself thinking a lot. Every time he’s home between crime scenes he’s looking at spots around his house that Hannibal occupied in the short time they were together. The kitchen, his bed, the couch, the shower. 

He doesn’t even have the comfort of Hannibal’s sweater. Because Hannibal took that the last morning they saw each other. That morning when he was so reluctant to let Will out of bed to feed the dogs, when he let Will fall asleep on top of him, then cooked Will breakfast. When Beverly told Will that Hannibal looks at him like he’s the only person in the world.

Even if he did want to see Hannibal (which he tries to convince himself he absolutely doesn’t), he’s too busy. Between providing an education, and being shipped off to two different states in four days, he has no time. Then there’s the constant pouring over evidence, databases, newspapers, everything else that he’s helping with. 

“Will,” Beverly calls out Friday night when he leaves the lab to go home. He turns to look at her and he can feel her concern radiating off of her. “Let me come over tonight. We can order pizza, okay? On me.”

And Will wants to say no so bad, but he just nods and walks out of the building with her. She follows him home. 

“Alright, talk to me, Will,” Beverly says after she orders a pizza over the phone.

Will shakes his head. He can’t.

“Okay, then we won’t talk,” Beverly says and sits down on the couch without another word. “We’ll watch dumb movies while we eat pizza and we won’t talk at all.”

So that’s what they do. Until Will falls asleep on the couch, head resting on Beverly’s shoulder while a movie he can’t remember the name of plays on the TV. 

He wakes up in the middle of the night, chest heaving, neck stiff, a soothing hand on his shoulder.

“Hannibal?” Will says into the dark. 

“No, Will, it’s me. It’s Beverly,” Beverly whispers. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out, rubbing at his eyes. “What time is it?”

She picks up her phone off the coffee table and the display lights up to show it’s just after three in the morning. 

“We both fell asleep,” Beverly shrugs. “Did you have a nightmare?”

Will swallows audibly. “Yeah, yeah. It happens a lot. I can’t remember most of them.”

“You were calling out his name, Will.”

“Sorry if I woke you,” Will sighs. “I, um, you can take my bed if you want? I’ll stay on the couch.”

“Will,” Beverly says softly. “You’re exhausted, go sleep in your bed.”

Will figures there’s no use arguing so he goes, and Beverly lays down on the couch and pulls a blanket over herself. Will changes into a t-shirt and a pair of shorts and gets into bed, but he doesn’t go back to sleep.

He lays on the pillow that smells like Hannibal and tries not to think too hard about how badly he wants to call. 

In the morning, Jack calls Beverly first, and she tells him she’s already with Will, so there’s no need to call him, too. They get on a flight to North Carolina after Beverly runs home to get a change of clothes. Will calls Port Haven on the way to the airport to have them tell Abigail he won’t be able to take her fishing.

* * *

Hannibal goes to visit Abigail on Friday. He hasn’t heard from Will again since he tried to call on Monday and he knows the ball is in his court, but Will said he wanted space. Hannibal is determined to give it to him. He won’t reach out first. 

And that’s hard. So he keeps himself busy, like planning the next Ripper display, and visiting Abigail. 

“Are you and Will still fighting?” Abigail asks the second Hannibal walks into her room at Port Haven. 

“We’re not fighting. He needed space,” Hannibal says. “Did you talk to Will?”

“He came to see me on Sunday,” Abigail shrugs. “I’m not entirely clear on whose fault everything is, but it seems like he thinks it’s his.”

“It’s not Will’s fault,” Hannibal sighs. He changed the subject. “I’m taking you to my home tonight for dinner.”

Abigail’s face lights up at that. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Hannibal goes and picks up a jacket from the back of a chair and holds it out for Abigail to put on. She slides shoes onto her feet and heads towards the door. 

“When did you last talk to Will?” Abigail asks in the car.

“Our last conversation was on Saturday evening. Otherwise, he attempted to call me Monday but I wasn’t near the phone,” Hannibal says. 

“And you didn’t call him back?” 

“No. I did not,” Hannibal shrugs. “He’ll come back to me when he’s ready to.”

“No offense, but you’re stupid,” Abigail mutters. 

“Well, as long as there’s no offense then I will allow it,” Hannibal responds. 

He normally wouldn’t let someone speak to him like that, but Abigail’s a teenager. And he knows she’s kind of right, even if he won’t admit it out loud. 

“He was so upset with himself,” Abigail continues. “He thinks he fucked everything up.”

“While Will may have said some things that were hurtful, I know they came from a place of hurt on his end, which was my fault. Still, I don’t want to reach out until I know what to say. I’m letting him come to me,” Hannibal says. “This isn’t a conversation for right now.”

Abigail huffs and crosses her arms in the passenger seat and doesn’t say another word for the rest of the drive back to Hannibal’s house. 

Even if Hannibal did wish to contact Will first, he knows he’s been out of town on a case, only coming home for hours at a time, mostly spent at Quantico, working. Alana told Hannibal when she said she was feeding the dogs every time Will leaves. 

Will was supposed to have a session on Thursday, but didn’t even reach out to Hannibal himself to cancel. Hannibal had known he wouldn’t be there. 

Hannibal pulls into his garage and they both get out of the car and walk into the house. Hannibal started preparing dinner before he left and there’s only a few things left to do. 

He pours Abigail a cup of tea, telling her the benefits of psilocybin mushrooms in controlled therapy environments.

“Magic mushrooms?” Abigail asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes.” 

She drinks her mushroom tea, under Hannibal’s watchful eye. He watches as he continues cooking eggs and sausage, watches as she drops her teacup on the floor. He sets down his cooking utensils and walks around the counter to kneel in front of Abigail, picking up the shattered teacup. 

“Doctor Bloom said this was okay?” Abigail asks, standing up from her chair and walking to a bowl of fruit.

“Absolutely not. She and I have a difference of opinion.”

Abigail settles back down into the chair with a fruit in hand and examines the skin until she sets it down, bored of that as well. 

“I don’t feel so good.”

“It’ll pass,” Hannibal assures her. 

He goes back to cooking and allows Abigail to sit where she is before instructing her to go sit in a spot at the dining room table. She disappears into the room and a few minutes later Hannibal’s doorbell rings.

On his doorstep is Alana Bloom, mad as he’s ever seen her. She yells at him in the kitchen, and he says sorry, though he doesn’t mean it. He lies and says Abigail is hazy because he gave her half a valium, then he tells Alana to join them at the table. Her mood brightens when she sees there’s a third place setting. He doesn’t tell her that he actually set it hoping Will would show up randomly, just as she had done instead. 

Abigail is a lot hazier than he made it out, but Alana doesn’t question it at all, just sits down and lets Hannibal serve her breakfast for dinner.

After, Alana takes Abigail back to the facility, but she looks reluctant to leave. 

Hannibal was hoping Abigail would tell him about her involvement in her father’s crimes tonight, with the help of the drugs to make the memories less hard on her, but Alana’s unexpected visit ruined that. He’ll have to visit Abigail again soon, and see if she’s willing to talk. 

Hannibal takes his third victim that night and begins to build his display. He wasn’t planning on making all of the victims in this sounder look the same, but it seemed fitting. The language of flowers is enough of his brand for it to work, and he grows most of them in his basement, anyways. The rest he buys at different shops outside of Baltimore, always paying cash. 

He waits until Saturday night, a full week since the last time he spoke to Will, to place the display, having caught wind that the BAU, including Will, are all out of town again.

He busies himself with work, catching up and reviewing patient notes, doing research for a paper he plans to write. None of it fills the void left inside of him.

* * *

On Sunday morning, mere hours after Will and the rest of the BAU returned home from North Carolina, Will’s woken up by a call from Jack. 

“Ripper. Texting address,” is all Jack says before hanging up on Will, not even waiting to see if Will is going to show up. Jack probably figures he either will or he won’t.

And Will does. And it’s the same as the first two victims. Jimmy lists the flowers for him when he walks into the scene.

“We have pink Camellias: longing. Red carnations: alas poor heart and admiration. Primrose commonly means ‘I can’t live without you.’ There's several that mean different kinds of love, a lot of them are repeats from the last display,” Jimmy explains. “A lot of purple hyacinth.”

Will just nods. “Heart ripped out, I’m assuming?”

“Yeah. Last one had a small arrangement inside, one of each flower. We’ll have to wait and see what these are,” Beverly answers. She pulls Will aside, away from everyone else. “You’re sure you’re up to this?”

“I’ll be okay, Bev,” Will nods. 

She pats his shoulder and they both turn to Jack, who calls for everyone to clear the area. 

Will closes his eyes and lets the pendulum swing. 

“I am left with nothing. A hole in my heart shaped like him. There’s nothing I can do to bring him back, so I am biding my time, showing my feelings in the only way I know how. I miss him, more than anything, but I can’t say sorry, as I never have before. This isn’t an offering, nor a warning. This is an outlet for my emotions,” Will says, the voice of the Ripper coming out as his own. “This is my design.”

Will drags himself out of the killer’s mind and his hands are trembling in his coat pockets. 

“It’s like this is a diary. He’s not speaking to anyone, but himself. He feels sorry for himself,” Will tells Jack. He looks for Beverly, but she’s in conversation with someone else. He feels like he’s going to fall apart any second now. “I’m… I need a minute.” 

“Are you okay?” Jack asks.

Will decides to tell a half truth. “I’m sort of going through a breakup right now. This hits close to home.”

“I didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

And Will knows that’s a damn lie because he hasn’t been subtle about the bruises on his neck, but he’s grateful to Jack for pretending.

“It was rather short lived,” Will shrugs. “Not really in the mood to talk about it.”

“Right. Well. The autopsy will be today after we get this packed up. You think you’ll be up to it?” 

“Yeah, I just need a breather right now,” Will nods. “I’m going to sit in my car for a bit.”

“Have you been talking to Doctor Lecter about what’s going on with you?” 

At the mention of his name, Will really feels the need to get out, and get out fast. He needs to get away from this conversation, but he just swallows and shakes his head. 

“This last week has been too hectic, so I really haven’t gotten a chance to have a session with him.”

“Right. Go catch your breath, and I’ll let you know if we need you for anything else.”

Will nods and turns quickly on his heels, going back to his car and getting into the driver's seat. He puts his forehead against the steering wheel and can’t help but laugh. He feels so absolutely unhinged because of this one man. This one gorgeous, caring, thoughtful man. Who didn’t return his call. The laugh turns into a sob and there’s tears falling not even a second later. 

Gasping for breath in his car alone, he hopes no one is paying attention to him. Of course, his luck has never been great, and the passenger side door opens and then there’s a hand on his back. 

“Let it out, Will,” Beverly whispers. And while he had hoped no one saw him, he’s glad she did. 

Will lets himself really cry, no one there to hear it, but himself and Beverly. 

“How long are you gonna let this go on? When are you going to call him, or show up at his house? Or I’ll show up at his house and give him a piece of my mind, whichever you want,” Beverly says after a while. 

Will can’t help but laugh. “Thanks, Beverly.” 

“Any time, man. You wanna head to that autopsy now? See what’s inside?” 

“Yeah,” Will nods. He wipes the remaining tears from his face. 

“Jimmy drove me this morning, but I’ll get a ride to Quantico with you, if that’s alright?” 

“That’s fine,” Will nods, turning his key and putting the car in gear. 

At Quantico, after the body is brought down to the morgue, Jimmy and Brian start off by reopening the stitching on the chest. They peel back the skin to reveal just one type of flower inside the cavity. 

“Wild blue phlox. Commonly known as Louisiana phlox, or a Woodland phlox, though some people _do_ actually call these Wild Sweet Williams. Just like our own sweet William right here,” Jimmy teases, pointing a scalpel at Will in the corner.

“My name’s not William,” Will shrugs.

“No?” Jimmy asks, surprised. 

“Just Will, but I do appreciate you calling me sweet, Jimothy,” Will jokes. 

“It’s James,” Jimmy corrects. “Oh you’re being silly. Duh, Jimothy isn’t even a real name.”

“I am so glad these are the minds we have working for the FBI,” Jack mutters. “What do these flowers mean and why did he only put this one kind in the chest?”

“So, phlox symbolizes good partnership, passion and sweet dreams. It’s not technically a Sweet William, but if we go with those meanings as well, they symbolize love, admiration, passion and gratitude. Gallantry is also a common one for Sweet Williams, but I believe the Sweet William meanings would pertain more to _Dianthus barbatus_ which is a different flower,” Jimmy shrugs. “I don’t know if we’re supposed to make that leap with the name or not.”

Everyone nods while listening, and Will speaks up, “I’m going to assume we’re not necessarily looking at the sweet william meanings but the phlox ones instead. I’m sure the Ripper was just tight on resources and chose these for the good partnership and passion meanings.” 

“Why do you say that?” Jack asks. 

“I mean, if this display was more of a diary entry than a public announcement, then I’m just going to assume he feels as though his heart was torn out and all he’s left with is some sort of memory of a good partnership. We leave flowers to mourn loved ones when they pass. He’s mourning the loss of his lover.”

“Is it possible his lover died?” 

Will considers that, but he can’t quite explain why it doesn’t feel right. Instead he says, “It’s a possibility. It’s possible he even killed him if I’m being honest. Maybe he didn’t accept the last display as an apology. Think about it, the first one was a message to us, the copycat and his lover. The second was just a message to his lover. This one is for himself. I suppose if we look at it that way, then sure.”

“So we look into the victim’s relationships first, then missing persons. It’s possible he’s hidden the body, or that he’s keeping it somehow,” Jack says. 

“The victim wasn’t the partner,” Will says, shaking his head. He doesn’t entirely believe the Ripper’s partner is dead, but if he is, it’s not the guy on the table right now. “The Ripper didn’t feel anything towards this man other than disdain. He’s simply a vessel for the Ripper’s own problems.” 

“Still,” Beverly says now. “Wouldn’t hurt to check.” 

“Wouldn’t hurt,” Will agrees quietly. “I should get home to the dogs. Do you guys need me for anything else tonight?”

Jack shakes his head. “Go home, get some rest. Take care of yourself.”

“Thanks, Jack,” Will says.

With that, Will goes home. 

He thinks about calling Hannibal, wants to resolve this so bad, knowing that Hannibal is just waiting for him. He said he needed space, and Hannibal is respecting his wishes. Will wants to call, but his thumb just hovers over Hannibal’s contact and he never makes contact with the screen. 

Because he’s still convinced Hannibal doesn’t want him anymore. 

Monday is miserable, but he gets through his lectures. Beverly brings him lunch to his office, and sits and eats with him. Tuesday goes the same. And Wednesday. Thursday, the day he usually has sessions with Hannibal, he debates whether or not he should go. He decides not to. 

Thursday night, he goes to bed early. When he wakes up, it’s after a dream that he’s walking with the stag. But he wakes up and he’s in the middle of the road, a police officer in front of him, his feet cut open on the pavement. This is the first time he’s ever sleepwalked. 

“He yours?” The officer asks, pointing his flashlight behind Will. 

Will turns and looks down. “Hi, Winston,” he whispers. He pets the dog that followed him out, keeping a watchful eye as Will sleep walked down the middle of the road, in the middle of the night, during cold mid-November.

After questions, he’s in the back of a police car, Winston sitting next to him on the seat, being taken home. All he can think about is how terrified he feels. He doesn’t stop shaking long after he gets dropped off by police, nor does he stop when he calls the dogs back inside from where they roam, looking for him after the front door was left open. 

He continues to tremble as he falls into his bed and does the only thing he can think of to calm himself down.

* * *

Hannibal expects Will to try calling again after this Ripper display, like he had the week before, but Will doesn’t. His week drags, and all he can think about while he listens to his patients is how much he misses Will. 

Thursday night comes and he stays in his office late, just in case Will does try to come to his session, but he doesn’t show up. Hannibal doesn’t know why he expected it to go any different. He thinks of Will every single time he walks into his bedroom, thinks about the one night they shared here. Maybe they weren’t meant to be. If Will wanted him, he would have called by now.

So, Hannibal gets into bed that night and tries his best to sleep, but it takes time. He wants nothing more than to be sleeping next to Will. He holds a pillow tight and inhales the scent of Will that barely lingers anymore. It is nowhere near enough.

Just as his eyes finally close and he feels himself start to drift off, his phone starts ringing on his nightstand. He doesn’t look at the name before accepting the call.

“What?” Hannibal answers in a harsh tone. Whoever it is will get the hint that it’s impolite to call in the middle of the night, and he will be able to finally get some sleep.

“Sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I called. I just needed… I’ll hang up.”

“Will?” Hannibal’s voice softens at the sound of the man on the other end. Will’s voice is shaking and he sounds terrified. “Are you alright?”

“I just needed to hear your voice. I shouldn’t have called. I’m sorry, I’m going to hang up now.”

“Darling,” Hannibal whispers, but the line has already gone dead. 

There was so much fear in Will’s voice, and Hannibal knows Will wouldn’t have called if he didn’t have to, so Hannibal gets out of bed and doesn’t even bother changing out of his pajamas. He instead pulls on his robe, and then a coat, and then slides on a pair of shoes and gets in his Bentley.

Hannibal speeds all the way to Wolf Trap and makes it there in record time. He finds the key under the dog figurine in the window sill, and he lets himself in.

A few of the dogs greet him excitedly, but the only thing on his mind is Will, and he finds the man curled up in his bed. He’s still trembling, surrounded by the dogs that didn't greet Hannibal at the door. 

“Darling,” Hannibal whispers again, just as he had on the phone. 

He takes off his shoes, throws his jacket and robe on the floor and sits down on the bed, pulling Will’s fevered body into his arms, holding him to his chest. 

“Hannibal,” Will sobs. “What are you doing here? I shouldn’t have called. I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to be with me anymore. I don’t know why I called.”

“Will, my love. You’re all I want. Don’t you understand?” Hannibal says softly. “I’ve been waiting for you to come to me after you said you needed space. I’ve spent every minute of the last two weeks wondering what I could do to make it better.”

Will doesn’t say anything in return, just wraps his arms around Hannibal and holds tight.

“What happened tonight, darling?” 

“I was sleepwalking. Dreaming that the stag from my dreams was following me, but I was out in the middle of the road with Winston. I don’t… I don’t even know if this is real, Hannibal,” Will whispers. 

Hannibal frowns at this news. “This is real. Repeat after me, darling. My name is Will Graham, it’s 3:32 in the morning, I am in Wolf Trap, Virginia.”

Will repeats him, with some hesitance, and Hannibal knows Will likely finds the exercise to be stupid and belittling, but Hannibal doesn’t know what else to do for him besides grounding techniques. All of his years of psychiatric work are forgotten because all he can think about is how Will trembles in his arms.

After another minute, Hannibal whispers, “Were you sleepwalking barefoot?”

Will nods against his chest.

“How are your feet?” 

“Cut up and dirty, probably. They hurt, but not too bad.” 

“Come,” Hannibal whispers, maneuvering Will to stand. “Let’s go take a bath.”

“I can’t ask that of you,” Will murmurs. “You should go home and go to sleep.”

“I’m here because I care for you deeply, Will. Nothing will ever change that. If you don’t want me, I’ll go, but don’t think for a moment longer than I don’t want you,” Hannibal says, standing and guiding Will by the shoulders to the upstairs bathroom where there’s a bathtub. 

“I was terrible to you, Hannibal,” Will whispers on the steps. 

“Only because I hurt you first,” Hannibal whispers. “I didn’t have the words to tell you how I feel about how I treated you, and I still don’t, so I hope saying sorry will suffice.”

“I convinced myself you didn’t want me anymore. It happens sometimes. I have something good and I ruin it because of a little thing, and then it snowballs,” Will says. 

They step into the bathroom and Hannibal sits on the edge of the tub and turns on the faucet. When the water is a comfortable temperature, he stands again and starts removing his own clothes. Will hesitates for a second, watching him, then removes his t-shirt and boxers. 

“I should have called you back after you attempted to call me last week, but I couldn’t find the words I wanted to say. I knew if I did, I would say something wrong and drive you further away from me, so I waited. I needed you to come to me,” Hannibal says, stepping into the tub and sitting with his legs spread as an invitation. 

Will gets in, but he sits with his back to the other side of the tub, letting the water from the faucet hit his spine. He draws his knees to his chest and hugs them tight. Hannibal knows it will take more time before they return to their past levels of intimacy. 

“You’re a psychiatrist. Pretend I’m actually your patient. What would you say to me if I told you about our entire situation?” Will asks. He’s not making eye contact either, which brings them back to the day they met. 

“I would tell you that you and your partner need to effectively communicate. You find yourself pushing him away for misunderstandings and missed calls, convincing yourself you’re not wanted, but telling your partner about these insecurities would be the first step to mending the problem,” Hannibal says quietly. He, too, draws his knees to his chest, mirroring Will’s position. 

“And what would you say to me as my boyfriend?” Will asks, voice small, almost inaudible above the sound of the water running.

“I would say the same thing, but I’d likely kiss you, as well,” Hannibal smiles weakly. “Will, these last two weeks have been unbearable. I found myself wearing our sweater and smelling it whenever I could. I haven’t washed my pillow cases since the night we spent at my house because it’s what I had left of your presence in my home. I’ve stayed in my office during your session time hoping you’d come to me.”

“I haven’t spent a single moment not thinking of you,” Will whispers. “I can’t promise you this won’t happen again, but if I ever shut you out again, please come to my house or to Quantico. It’s hard for me to get out of that mindset once I get into it.” 

“Now that I know this, I won't let you stray from me again.”

* * *

Will turns and shuts off the water, now that it’s filled the tub enough, and he slides across the space between them. Hannibal slides his knees back down so they’re no longer hugged to his chest, and Will sits on his own knees between Hannibal’s, facing him. 

Hannibal looks at him curiously, but Will doesn’t move at all, just looks down at the man in front of him, memorizes the face he missed so much. Then he lifts a hand and runs his fingers through Hannibal’s hair, soft and fluffy, unlike his usual gelled back look. This is how Will likes him, because it’s how he looks when they wake up together. 

He slides his hand down to cup one cheek, then brings his other hand to cup the other, letting his thumbs caress those sharp cheekbones. Hannibal’s eyes close when Will does that, his lips part when Will brings his fingertips to outline them. Will can tell Hannibal wants to touch him, to pull him close, but Hannibal stays where he is, with his hands clutching the edges of the tub, letting Will continue his exploration. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” Will whispers, only millimeters from Hannibal’s mouth. 

Will hears Hannibal’s breath hitch in his throat, and closes the distance, kissing Hannibal so softly, but with so much feeling. Finally, those strong arms come around Will’s waist and pull his body close. Will pulls his lips away from Hannibal’s and rests their foreheads together, eyes closed. 

He’s getting hard, where his cock is trapped between their bodies, and he knows Hannibal is likely getting there himself, as well, but he’s so tired and sex would be a bad idea, without a doubt. They have all the time in the world for more later, and Hannibal seems to be thinking the same thing. 

“Let me see your feet, and then I would like to sleep,” Hannibal murmurs. 

“Just. Give me another second,” Will whispers, staying kneeled between Hannibal’s legs, being held tight and close. 

Finally Will sighs and slides back to the other side of the tub and extends his legs, letting Hannibal take each foot in hand, cleaning them gently with a washcloth. It stings, but Hannibal is careful and Will doesn’t make any indication that he’s in any sort of pain. When Hannibal is seemingly satisfied, he stands, and steps out of the bath, then extends a hand to Will, pulling him out with him. 

Once standing, Will leans down and pulls the stopper on the drain, then turns back around to find Hannibal holding a towel open for him, which he steps into and takes it from Hannibal’s hands. 

They both dry off and leave their clothes on the bathroom floor, dropping the towels next to them, and go back downstairs naked. 

It feels weird, just how easy it is to fall right back into what they had before. Will knows Hannibal wouldn’t have shown up in the middle of the night if he didn’t want to be here.

They get into bed and Will lays on his side, facing away, and pulls Hannibal’s arm with him so Hannibal is pressed against his back, holding onto him. 

Hannibal is hard against his ass, but makes no attempt to relieve himself in any way. Will is glad they’re on the same page for the night. While he wants to be close, to be held, and to hold, he doesn’t want to push it further than that for now. He’s glad to have Hannibal back, but he’s still thinking about the last two weeks. How unbearably painful it all was. Intimacy and sex would be too much for him right now, even if he weren’t too tired to keep his eyes open. 

“Are you sure you want to be held like this?” Hannibal asks. It’s a valid question, Will knows, but _god_ he wants _nothing_ more than to held like this right now and the question feels stupid to him.

“This way I won’t be able to get up and go for a walk naked,” Will laughs quietly. 

“I’ll be sure to hold you tight if that starts to happen,” Hannibal whispers against the back of his neck. “You don’t know how badly I wanted you back in my arms.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Will whispers. “I’m tired.”

“I know. I am too. We can talk in the morning,” Hannibal says. His arm tightens around Will’s stomach and Will feels safe again, for the first time in two weeks. He just hopes he can keep it this time.

Will sleeps better than he has in days and he knows he owes it all to who is in bed with him. 

The sound of a cell phone ringing wakes him up, then an arm tightens around his waist and he momentarily forgets that Hannibal is here and Hannibal is real until lips are pressing to the back of his neck and words are coming out of them in that low purring sound. 

“Ignore the call.”

Will glances at his phone on the nightstand, groaning at the name displayed on the phone.

“It’s Jack,” Will sighs. 

“I don’t care.” And Hannibal reaches and rejects the call himself. “He can come here and I will tell him myself that you are not doing field work today or tomorrow or Sunday. Possibly even Monday.”

“Are you going to be naked when you do?” 

“Mm. Indubitably.” 

The phone rings again and Hannibal picks it up and turns it off completely. 

“Hannibal you can’t do that,” Will whispers, but he doesn’t move to turn the cell phone back on. 

“It’s six o’clock in the morning, and I have just gotten you back. Forgive me that I don’t care about whatever murder victim Jack Crawford wants you to see this morning,” Hannibal says into the back of his neck. “Now go back to sleep.”

“I will have to get up eventually, you know. I have lectures today.”

“Cancel them. I am calling my patients in an hour to cancel due to an emergency and you’re going to call out sick,” Hannibal whispers. 

“Let me up for a second, then. My laptop is in the kitchen. I’ll be back in less than five minutes.”

Hannibal lets go of Will and Will walks on his sore feet into the kitchen. He stands at the kitchen table while he writes an email and sends it off to all of his students, cancelling all lectures for the day. 

As promised, Will gets back into bed next to Hannibal and settles with the front of his body pressed to Hannibal’s back, this time being the one holding Hannibal in place. He inhales the familiar and comforting scent of the man as he holds him tight to his chest, their legs tangled and their fingers intertwined on Hannibal’s stomach. 

Will wants to say it. Wants to say _‘I love you.’_ Wants to say it more than he’s wanted to say anything in his life, but it’s too soon. Much too soon, so instead he kisses the back of Hannibal's neck and closes his eyes. He allows sleep to take him again. 

He wakes up to a pounding on his front door and Hannibal pulls himself out of bed. 

“Baby, come back. I’ll get it,” Will mumbles into his pillow. “Jack can’t see you here.”

Will slowly pushes himself up on his hands, then puts one foot on the floor, then the other, then lays back down for another second because he _really_ wants to stay in bed. He changes his mind when he turns and sees Hannibal is completely naked, unlocking the deadbolt on the front door. Will scrambles out of bed, picks up the robe Hannibal discarded the night before and runs to where Hannibal is pulling the door open.

“Jack Crawford, please- Oh! Miss Katz. I apologize,” Hannibal says just as Will puts the robe over Hannibal’s shoulders from behind and ties it around the front. “Thank you, darling.”

“Uh,” Beverly says, and Will looks down, remembering he’s also completely naked. 

“Sorry,” Will mumbles and turns back towards his bed, towards the drawers of clothes. 

“It’s a good thing you two are good looking,” Beverly laughs. “Man, and Jack wanted to be the one to come get you. I would pay to see his reaction to this.”

Will smiles weakly as he pulls on a pair of boxers. 

Beverly keeps talking. “Doctor Lecter, I gotta admit it’s a surprise to see you here.”

“Ah, I take it Will has confided in you,” Hannibal says. Will can tell he’s bothered, but won’t say it, not in front of Beverly. 

“Beverly’s been… really helpful, Hannibal.”

“Oh? Is that so?” The Jealous is evident in his voice, and Will knows exactly how that feels. 

Will laughs and walks back over to him, pushing up on his toes to press a kiss to Hannibal’s cheekbone.

“You have nothing to worry about, baby.”

“If it helps ease your obvious jealousy, I am a lesbian, actually,” Beverly says. “I feel nothing romantic nor sexual towards your boyfriend, don’t worry.”

“Oh, well. That’s. I suppose I have nothing to worry about, then,” Hannibal smiles. 

“Anyways,” Beverly says. “Get dressed and get your ass in my car.”

“I’m not coming out today, Bev. Sorry,” Will says firmly. “Have Jack take it up with Hannibal if he’s upset.”

“We could really use you today, Will,” Beverly tries, but Will knows she’s not going to push him any harder than that. “What do you want me to tell Jack?”

“Just tell him to call Hannibal. Say we talked about taking time off from field work during my session last night and that I gave you no other reason other than that.” 

Beverly sighs. “Yeah, okay. I can do that.”

“Thanks, Bev. Call me later if it’s anything interesting.”

“Oh, I’ll call even if it’s not. I want an explanation about this,” she says, pointing at both Hannibal and Will in turn. “I don’t have time now, though.”

“Alright. Sorry you had to make the trip for nothing,” Will apologizes.

“I knew when you didn’t answer Jack’s calls and then shut off your phone that you wouldn’t be coming out. I insisted he let me be the one to come here because I figured you’d rather see me than Jack if something was wrong with you. I can see now that everything’s fine,” Beverly laughs. She heads back towards the door. “I’ll call you later.”

“Bye,” Will says, and shuts the door behind her. He turns to look at Hannibal, who is already pulling the robe off again and dropping it onto the bed. “You bastard. What if that would’ve been Jack? Actually, it makes it no better that Bev saw both of us nude.”

Hannibal’s smile is so smug that Will wants to kiss it off his face. “She handled it rather well. I would have expected her to be more flustered.”

“She sees naked bodies every single day. Dead bodies, but still bodies,” Will shrugs. “I’m just not super excited that this time it was _ours.”_

Hannibal shrugs, grabs his phone from next to the bed, then settles down onto the couch, laying on his back. A few dogs go up to him and sniff at his hands, but he shows them he has nothing for them and they leave him alone to bother Will, who puts them outside. Will steps onto the front porch in just his underwear and watches as the dogs take care of business, then come running back.

He steps inside and sees that Hannibal has picked up the book Will left on the coffee table, surely something he has no actual interest in, but he still reads it. After Will returns from feeding the dogs, he steps out of his underwear and sets them on the bed for later, before joining Hannibal on the couch, laying on his stomach between Hannibal’s legs, resting his head on Hannibal’s stomach, just below his chest. 

It does not take long at all before one of Hannibal’s hands finds its way into Will’s hair, lightly rubbing his scalp as Hannibal reads the book. He thinks Hannibal might not actually be reading, but his head feels too heavy to lift it long enough to check. Will finds himself drifting off again after just a few minutes of that. 

When Will wakes up again, Hannibal’s eyes are closed, the book is set on the coffee table, but his fingers are moving in lazy circles on Will’s back. Will smiles to himself, then turns his face and kisses Hannibal’s ribs. 

* * *

Hannibal smiles down at Will as he wakes, when he kisses Hannibal’s ribs with a shy smile on his face. He flattens his palm on Will’s warm back and resists the urge to pull him up by the armpits for a proper kiss. 

“Morning,” Will mumbles. 

“Mm, it’s nearly noon,” Hannibal says. 

“That late? Did you call your patients?” Will asks, lifting his head to look at Hannibal with sleepy eyes. 

“Yes. While you were outside with the dogs earlier,” Hannibal answers. “I also talked to Jack while you were sleeping just now.”

“Man, I was really asleep wasn’t I?” Will muses, resting his head back down on Hannibal’s chest. 

“You needed the rest,” Hannibal says. “I’m sure you need a good meal, as well.”

“Mhm. No food in my house. Maybe some eggs, actually.”

“I can work with that if you’d like. Or we can go out,” Hannibal suggests. 

Hannibal feels Will tense on top of him and he shakes his head. “No. We can have eggs. There might be other stuff, too. I don’t really know.”

“Have you been eating, darling?” Hannibal asks, though he already knows Will hasn’t been eating well, not to Hannibal’s standards, at least.

“Enough to get by. Beverly brought me lunch all week because she didn’t think I was eating,” Will whispers. “It was easy to forget. A lot on my mind.”

“Yes, I suppose,” Hannibal whispers back. “I know you don’t wish for me to purchase you groceries, but if you aren’t going to take care of yourself, I must insist.”

“I… It makes me feel like I’m being babied,” Will says softly, uncertain and hesitant. “It makes me uncomfortable and makes me feel like you don’t trust me to be able to take care of myself, when I’ve been doing it for my entire life.”

“That’s not at all my intention, I hope you know,” Hannibal says. “I just take care of those dear to me. It’s no different to me than making dinner for my friends, or being a proverbial shoulder to cry on, I would say.”

“Being a shoulder to cry on is your job,” Will mutters.

“And yet I do not get paid when I counsel Jack through what he assumed to be marital problems, or when I listen to Alana complain about all she complains about to me,” Hannibal whispers. 

“What’s wrong with Jack’s marriage?” Will asks, raising his head again, an eyebrow raised, curiosity in his eyes. He drops his head again, then says, “I suppose it’s not my business.”

“Mm, maybe not, but I don’t particularly care. His wife has cancer. Stage IV lung,” Hannibal says softly.

“Shit. When did they find out?”

“Mrs Crawford came to me as a patient, and I convinced her to tell Jack. Up until then he thought they were just growing distant, until last week,” Hannibal says. 

“Fuck, that’s terrible. He’s holding it together really well, I’d say. Meanwhile I broke down in my car at a Ripper scene because of something that could’ve been fixed if I just called you,” Will says. “I told Jack I was going through a breakup as if that’s anywhere near comparable to what him and Bella are going through.”

Hannibal feels his heart break in his chest at Will telling him his reaction to the Ripper display, just as it broke outside his hotel room in New York. 

“I wasn’t aware you were going to the Ripper scenes,” Hannibal murmurs. “Did something about the scene trigger your breakdown?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I shouldn’t have mentioned it,” Will whispers. 

“Will, darling,” Hannibal sighs. He has to know if Will understood the scenes he left, as they were mainly messages to him, even if the last was just a way to express himself. He wanted Will to read those scenes, but he hadn’t intended for them to cause Will any turmoil. He didn’t think Will would actually show up to the scenes.

“Drop it, please. I don’t want to talk about it right now. We can talk about the Ripper in our next session.”

That’s almost a week away, and Hannibal wants to say as much, but instead he just sighs again and finally pulls Will up by the armpits so he’s laying more fully on Hannibal’s torso. Will gasps as Hannibal does it and Hannibal smiles, completely satisfied by the reaction. Will just buries his face in the crook of Hannibal’s neck. Hannibal wraps his arms around Will’s naked waist.

He realizes Will is hard, and Hannibal’s been there the entire time Will’s been laying on him, his erection trapped under Will’s chest for the last several hours. He didn’t dare move an inch the entire morning.

“Want me to give you a hand with that?” Hannibal whispers. 

Will shakes his head, and Hannibal doesn’t push the subject any further. He knows it could possibly take time before they get back into being comfortable with that level of intimacy, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t ache for it immensely.

After a few minutes, Will starts speaking into the side of his neck.

“I want to take things slow,” Will says. “I mean, yeah, we’ve fucked already, whatever, but… I feel like we moved too fast before, like we just jumped right into bed without really understanding each other. I think that played a role in, well, you know. I want to start over, for the most part.”

“Mm. Very well. We will wait as long as you need.”

“It’s just that…” Will continues to explain. “I know it’s majorly my fault, but the pain of the last two weeks is still lingering right on the surface and I… it’s hard. I want to forget about it, but I can’t, not really.”

“I understand wholeheartedly,” Hannibal whispers. 

Will just nods against Hannibal’s neck, kisses him so lightly Hannibal almost doesn’t feel it, and then hauls himself off the couch. 

“We can go grocery shopping, and you can fill my cart with as much as you want, but I’m paying for it myself,” Will says. He offers Hannibal a hand, and Hannibal takes it, letting the smaller man pull him off the couch. “You came here in your pajamas, didn’t you?”

“I have a spare change of clothes in the car,” Hannibal says. He put them in there two weeks ago, the morning he had to leave Will’s house in a rush when Beverly showed up to drop off the Ripper photos. He didn’t want to be caught in the morning without something to change into. They’ve been in his car since. 

Hannibal pulls his robe back on, and slides on his shoes, then walks out to the barn where he parked his car the night before. He opens the trunk and pulls out the bag he has in there. There may be more than one change of clothes, and some of his shower and grooming products of choice, but if Will is uncomfortable with him leaving any of it in his home, he will bring it back to the car.

Will is buttoning his pants when Hannibal walks in. Hannibal sets his bag down on Will’s bed and starts to pull out several items, including his preferred toothpaste, cologne, his hair gel, and a comb. 

Will disappears up the stairs, and comes back down a minute later pulling a sweater on over his head. Hannibal recognizes it as the one he left on the bathroom floor before getting in the bath last night. 

Hannibal starts pulling on his underwear as Will comes over to look down at the bed. 

“Is that your hair gel?” Will asks, pointing at the product on the bed. 

“Yes.”

“Don’t use it today. I like when your hair is… normal,” Will says cautiously. 

“As you wish,” Hannibal says, bending down to pull on his pants. 

When they are both fully dressed, Will has to take care of the dogs again and they stand on the front porch together, watching them run and play. 

“What did you say to Jack?” Will asks.

“I told him that I do not find it wise for you to be in the field right now while you’re dealing with both a possible physical illness and going through… a breakup,” Hannibal answers. “I also told him you have been sleepwalking.” 

“Great. He’s going to think I’m losing my mind,” Will mutters. 

“You may very well be,” Hannibal shrugs. “The illness that you do not want to see a doctor for could be altering your mental state.”

“What do you think it is, anyway?” 

“Encephalitis. I can’t be sure until you get a brain scan,” Hannibal says. 

“And how long until it’s actually a problem?”

“I would argue that it’s a problem already,” Hannibal tells him. “If you get treatment, then you’ll no longer have the fever, and likely the nightmares won’t be as frequent. You won’t wake up sweating as you have been. If it is encephalitis as I suspect, it is only a matter of time before you’re experiencing spatial neglect and loss of time. Seizures are a possibility, as well.” 

* * *

“Well, fuck,” Will says. He digs his hands in his pockets and continues to watch the dogs move around the yard. None of what Hannibal said sounds good. None of it is anything he wants to experience. “What do you suggest I do?”

“I can call an old colleague of mine. Doctor Sutcliffe. He’s a neurologist and owes me a favor or two. I can see if he can get you in for an MRI sometime soon,” Hannibal says. “If that’s something you would be okay with.”

“Okay. Please,” Will says. “How much time do you think I’ll have to take off work?”

“It’s customary to hospitalize encephalitis patients for a few days, time depending on severity. Then there’ll be bed rest for some time, of course. It is hard to say without knowing for sure that is the problem,” Hannibal says. 

Will doesn’t particularly like the uncertainty of it all. He’s already taken too many days away from the classroom, either staying home or being away on cases. Someone will have to take care of the dogs while he’s in the hospital, someone will have to step in and substitute lecture, someone will have to keep Jack and the rest of the BAU off his ass while he recovers. 

And Will would be all alone with no company if Hannibal decides he doesn’t want to stick around… Will shakes the thought from his head. He can’t keep letting himself think that way. Hannibal’s here, Hannibal’s with him. 

Hannibal steps behind him and puts his hands on his shoulders. Will groans when his hands start to massage the tension out of his body. 

“There’s nothing to worry about, my dear. It will all turn out okay,” Hannibal whispers into his ear. 

Will nods. He knows Hannibal is talking about more than just the encephalitis and the treatment. He knows he’s talking about that, but also their entire relationship to come, everything they’ll experience together from this day forward. He just hopes Hannibal is right. Will doesn’t think he’ll be able to get through another separation between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments! Let me know what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling, all of that. Reading comments really is one of my favorite parts of sharing my writing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, i hate writing serious sex scenes so bad and I’m sorry for this one. Second, I do not mean to make Will so sad all the time but it keeps happening, so I am also sorry for that as well. 10.7k words to make up for the fact that I’ve been slacking off the last few days.

Hannibal drives Will's car to the grocery store, and Will holds Hannibal’s right hand on the center console, unable to not touch the man. He finds himself lightly squeezing Hannibal’s hand periodically, and if Hannibal is annoyed he doesn’t make any indication. 

“I visited Abigail,” Will says just as they turn onto the main road by his house. 

“I had Abigail over for dinner. Alana rudely interrupted us. Although I did remove Abigail from Port Haven without permission and gave her psilocybin tea,” Hannibal says, as if it’s the most normal thing he could possibly say. 

“You’re joking.” 

“I’m not. I had hoped it would help her create positive associations with speaking about her father and would encourage her to tell me about her role in his crimes,” Hannibal says. He gives Will’s hand a squeeze, then removes his own from Will’s grasp to focus on steering as he drives on a busier road. 

“She told me without the help of shrooms, believe it or not,” Will tells him. “We could go visit her together.”

“That may be a good idea. She asked me if we were still fighting when I went to see her.”

“When did you go?”

“Friday, a week ago,” Hannibal says. 

“I hung out with Beverly that night. We fell asleep on the couch after watching stupid movies and drinking cheap beer,” Will says. “I considered showing up at your house that night, but she stopped me as we were walking out of the lab.”

“I had a third place setting for you in hopes you would show up,” Hannibal says quietly. “Of course it helped placate Alana as she thought it was set for her.”

“Alana’s attracted to you,” Will says, almost out of nowhere. “It’s not hard to see and that’s why I was… the way I was that night you were gone.”

“I’m aware, but I can assure you I feel nothing towards Alana,” Hannibal says. With that, he reaches back across the space and takes Will’s hand back in his own and Will is grateful to have that point of contact again. “I considered killing her and fleeing that country that night.”

Will laughs incredulously. “Why? It’s not like it’s really her fault that I’m a jealous asshole when I’m drunk.”

“I was rather distraught when I walked back into the room after our call and she noticed. Ever so observant, she makes a wonderful psychiatrist, so of course she asked me the problem. I had to lie and say an old friend from my past died,” Hannibal explains. “She got out of her bed and in the moments between then and her embracing me, I considered snapping her neck. Luckily I returned the embrace and then went to sleep instead.” 

“I’m glad you didn’t kill Alana,” Will says. “I’m sorry for shutting you out.”

“I have forgiven you since the moment it happened, and I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to get you back,” Hannibal replies. “It won’t do good to dwell and continuously apologize. The best we can do is move forward and learn from our mistakes.”

Will just nods and hopes Hannibal catches it in his peripheral vision. He stays silent for the rest of the drive to the grocery store, listening to the quiet music on the classic rock station that Hannibal, surprisingly, made no attempt to change. 

As promised, Will lets Hannibal fill his shopping cart with everything Hannibal thinks he needs, but Will pays for it. Hannibal does disappear for a few minutes while Will is checking out and when they meet outside the store, Hannibal presents him with a stuffed dog.

“Why do I need this?” Will asks, eyeing the stuffed animal in Hannibal’s hands as he pushes his cart to the car. 

“I would agree you don’t need it, but that does not mean you shouldn’t have it,” Hannibal says. “I saw him when we passed the gift aisle and I thought of you.”

Will can see the sincerity in Hannibal’s eyes, hear it in his voice how much he wants Will to have this stuffed animal. Because of that, when they reach the car and put the groceries in the trunk, Will picks it up and takes the dog to the passenger seat with him. 

Hannibal gets back into the driver’s seat and Will leans over, kisses Hannibal’s cheek, then lifts a hand to turn Hannibal’s face so he can kiss him on the lips. He realizes they haven’t properly kissed since the night before in the bath, and even then it was soft and only lasted a second. Will has missed those lips, and when he pulls away, he decides against it and goes back for a second kiss.

“Thank you,” Will whispers with a smile. He settles back into his seat, and holds the stuffed animal to his chest as Hannibal turns on the car and takes them back to Will’s house. 

“If you don’t want me to, I won’t, but I’d like to spend the weekend with you,” Hannibal says as they’re carrying the groceries into the house. “Well, I may have to go home to get a few things, including Doctor Sutcliff’s business card, but otherwise I’d like to be here.”

Will thinks he should say no, but he finds himself nodding as he sets the stuffed dog down on the counter. He simply says, “Sure.” 

Hannibal nods and starts putting Will’s groceries away as Will lets the dogs outside. Beverly calls while he’s outside watching them and he answers immediately.

“Hey, Bev,” Will says.

“First of all, this dude is making angels to watch him while he sleeps, second, what’s up with you and Lecter?” Beverly says both things without a pause between them, giving Will no time to process the first before he’s stammering out an answer about Hannibal.

“I went out sleepwalking last night and got picked up by the police,” Will says once he gathers himself together enough to form a coherent answer. “When I got home, I was scared and called him without even thinking about it, apologized, hung up, and next thing I knew, he was here.”

“Well, damn Graham, what did I say? The man loves you,” Beverly says. “But you’re okay? The sleepwalking and everything?”

“Yeah, yeah. Police found me walking down the middle of the road with Winston. I’m lucky I didn’t get hit by a car.”

“I’d say. What are you doing tonight? Me and the guys are gonna go out for drinks when we finish up tonight. You wanna join?” 

“I would but Hannibal asked to stay the weekend, and well, I don’t know if he’d want me to leave him at my house alone,” Will sighs. Drinks with Beverly, Jimmy, Jack and Brian sounds nice, and he could use a bit of a break from the emotions that come with rebuilding what he and Hannibal had.

“But you want to come out with us, don’t you?” Beverly asks, catching on to what Will didn’t say. “Bring him, too.”

“I can’t. You know that,” Will says. 

“I guess. Talk to him about it, maybe he’ll be okay with you leaving for a bit,” Beverly says. “We could use your insight on the case, but we don’t wanna make you come into Quantico if Lecter thinks it’s bad for you.”

“He did say he wanted to go home to get a few things, so maybe he can do that when I’m gone,” Will tells her. “I’ll call you back in like fifteen.”

“Alright, Will. Beg if you have to. I could probably blackmail him with something,” Beverly laughs.

“I’m sure you could,” Will laughs back. “Bye.”

Will hangs up and calls the dogs inside, then finds Hannibal laying on the couch with his eyes shut. 

“Tired?” Will asks, sitting on the edge of the cushion next to his thigh. 

Hannibal’s eyes open and there’s a fondness in them and in the tiny smile on his face. “I will admit I haven’t slept much at all. Usually I don’t require much sleep, but I have gotten less than that.”

“Hm, you can take a nap in my bed if you want,” Will suggests. He rests his hand on Hannibal’s stomach and Hannibal puts his own hand over it. “I just talked to Beverly.”

“What did she have to say?” 

“She asked if I could go out with her and the guys for drinks tonight. I said I’d talk to you first,” Will says. 

Hannibal nods, eyes falling closed as he does. “I can run my errands in Baltimore while you’re gone.”

“Come on, come to bed,” Will says, pulling Hannibal up by the hand resting over his own. “You’ll be more comfortable and then I can lay with you.”

“You laid with me on the couch this morning,” Hannibal protests. He tries to pull Will back down onto the couch, back into a similar position they were in this morning.

“And you didn’t sleep,” Will responds. “If you want me to lay on top you, you just have to ask. In bed, though.”

Hannibal groans and finally gets up, and follows Will across the room to the bed. Will kicks off his shoes and sees that Hannibal brought the stuffed dog from the kitchen and set it down on Will’s pillow. 

“Lay down, I’m gonna call Bev back and get a snack, then I’ll join you for a bit,” Will says. 

“I can make lunch if you’re hungry,” Hannibal says, starting towards the kitchen. Will shakes his head and catches him, directing him by the shoulders back to the bed. 

“No, baby, lay down,” Will says.

“Why do you call me that?” Hannibal asks with a yawn. Will sits on the edge of the bed as Hannibal lays on his side, facing Will. 

“Because I know you like it,” Will laughs. “Don’t try to deny that, I see it in your eyes.”

“I do, I was just curious.”

“It wasn’t exactly a conscious choice the first time, but,” Will shrugs. “It’s a common pet name, so it slipped out.”

Hannibal nods. “Go call Miss Katz and eat your… snack, and then come lay on top of me.”

Will laughs and goes into the kitchen, makes a sandwich with the lunch meat and bread he bought and eats it, standing over the sink before calling Beverly back.

“Hey, what’s the verdict?” Beverly says when she answers.

“I’ll come out for drinks tonight. Hannibal’s gonna do his stuff in Baltimore while I’m gone. What time?”

“We’ll probably wrap up around six or seven here. I can give you a call when we leave Quantico.”

“Same bar as last time?” Will asks. 

“Yeah. I gotta get back to the lab. See you later, Will.”

“See you,” Will responds.

He goes back into the living room and climbs into bed next to Hannibal. Hannibal’s eyes open when the bed shifts, and his arms encircle Will’s waist and pull him towards himself. Will feels his breath leave him with the sudden movement, realizes just how strong Hannibal really is, but after a second he catches his breath again and settles between Hannibal’s spread legs, head below his chest, just as they had been on the couch.

“Do you usually sleep on your back or do you just like me here that much?” Will asks. He doesn’t let Hannibal answer before continuing, “I bet you’re sacrificing your own comfort and forgoing your usual sleeping position just to have me here, aren’t you? As if you think I won’t be here when you wake up if I’m not fully pressed to your body in a way that can’t be ignored.”

“Attempting to psychoanalyze me, darling?” Hannibal asks. “Maybe you’re correct. Usually I would sleep on my side.”

Will rolls out of his spot and pushes Hannibal to lay on his side.

“I’m not going anywhere. Please sleep,” Will whispers, laying down on his side behind Hannibal, arm around his waist. “You can be the little spoon, and I’ll hold you if that makes you feel better.” 

“I suppose,” Hannibal says, clearly defeated on this subject. Hannibal takes hold of the hand resting on his stomach and Will gives his hand a few squeezes, then nuzzles his face into the back of Hannibal’s neck. 

* * *

Hannibal sleeps for an hour and when he wakes up, he turns in Will’s arms to face him, seeing he’s awake. 

“Did you sleep?” Hannibal asks, lifting his hand to push Will’s curls out of his face.

“No, I slept earlier.” 

“When are you leaving?” 

“Beverly said they won’t be leaving until six or seven, and it’s only four now,” Will says. 

“Should we have an early dinner, then?” Hannibal asks. He sits up in the bed and stretches, then goes to the kitchen without confirmation from Will. He’ll cook whether Will wants to eat or not. 

“Can you make the frozen chicken nuggets I bought?” Will asks from behind Hannibal, who is now standing at the fridge. 

Hannibal glances over his shoulder to see if Will is serious, and, to Hannibal’s dismay, it seems as though he is. He resists the urge to sigh, and he opens the freezer to pull the bag out. 

Will gets out a baking sheet and preheats the oven while Hannibal reads the instructions and examines the photo on the bag. 

“Darling?”

“Hm?”

“Are these shaped like dinosaurs?” Hannibal asks, cutting the bag open with a knife.

“Yes, they are.” 

Hannibal nods and pretends to be unaffected by Will’s choice of dinner. At this point, he knows it’s best to do as Will asks, not push him towards anything he doesn’t readily want. Hannibal is too scared to even kiss him first, not sure where Will’s boundaries lie at the moment. Anything to keep him from running again, anything to keep him close. 

“Should we have something else with these?” Hannibal asks, placing the chicken down on the baking sheet. 

“Tater tots,” Will says with a nod, going back to the freezer to pull out that bag, too. He opens the bag and dumps them next to the chicken nuggets, then puts the whole thing in the oven. 

“That’s not even preheated yet,” Hannibal protests. 

Will shrugs. “It’s almost there.”

Hannibal doesn’t consider himself to be a religious man, but he’s praying to ten gods at that moment. His patience in the kitchen only stretches so far, but he’s momentarily distracted from his growing irritation when Will lifts a hand to Hannibal’s cheek, cupping it and running his thumb over the bone. 

“Thank you. I know it’s difficult for you to see me eat this way, but after days of barely eating, I don’t think it would be good for me to jump back into it with one of your meals,” Will explains. “You can make something else if you don’t want this.”

Hannibal shakes his head and leans into Will’s hand, savoring that touch that hasn’t been as forthcoming as Hannibal would prefer. 

“I am more than capable of eating frozen food, and if this is what you want, then this is what we’ll have,” Hannibal tells him. 

Will smiles, just the corners of his lips tilting up, but still a smile and Hannibal wants nothing more than to lean down and kiss him. There’s so much fondness in Will’s eyes, a look usually reserved for no one but the dogs, but he gives it willingly to Hannibal as well. 

Hannibal considers, for a second, telling Will that he loves him, but makes himself shake that thought. He doesn’t want to scare Will away by moving too fast, and surely a love confession would qualify. 

As if Will can sense all of Hannibal’s hesitancy, and Hannibal realizes Will probably actually can sense it, Will takes a step closer so their bodies are touching and he buries his face in Hannibal’s throat. His arms find their way around Hannibal’s waist and Hannibal’s own make their way to rest on Will’s shoulders. 

“You’re scared,” Will points out. “I don’t know what about, and I won’t make you tell me, but you’re hesitant. You can touch me, and kiss me, and talk to me about anything.” 

Hannibal makes a noise in his throat, letting Will know he acknowledges the words, but doesn’t know what to say. He knows Will understands. It’s clear with the way his arms squeeze Hannibal a little bit tighter, the way he hands fist the back of Hannibal’s shirt, the way his lips pepper kisses across Hannibal’s neck. 

Will’s touches are reassuring, affectionate, and Hannibal returns them by dropping kisses to the top of Will’s head, and lowering his arms so he can hug Will around the shoulders. 

Again, Hannibal wants to say it. Wants to tell Will ‘ _I love you.’_ But he doesn’t, he just holds Will tight as they stand there in the kitchen, waiting for the oven timer to go off. 

After a while Hannibal clears his throat. 

“There is a performance at the opera I’d like for you to come to. It’s not until after the New Year, but if you agree, that gives us plenty of time, both for your recovery, and to get you a tux and a dog sitter for the night,” Hannibal says. “And I can assure you I will have nothing else that night in terms of forgotten plans.”

“Okay,” Will whispers in his throat. He pulls his head back, then pushes up on his toes to kiss Hannibal on the lips, just once, very soft, then says, “How long do you think it’ll take to get me an appointment?”

“The doctor I’m going to call owes me several favors, so I am confident he could you get you in by Tuesday or Wednesday,” Hannibal answers. 

Will nods and puts his head down on Hannibal’s chest, and Hannibal puts his chin on top of Will’s curls. 

“I’m just letting you know that I do have a regular routine on weekends that I’m not going to change just because you’re here,” Will says after a few minutes. “I’m going fishing in the morning and you can come or not, but I'm going unless the weather is bad.”

“What else?”

“This is a bath weekend for the dogs. I make their food for the week on Saturday evenings. Sometimes I visit Abigail on Sundays, so we could do that, if you want,” Will suggests. “Saturdays are my day as long as I’m in town for them, and I wasn’t last weekend.”

The timer goes off then and Will extracts himself from their embrace and turns it off. He grabs an oven mitt from a drawer and pulls the pan out of the oven, setting it on the stove. 

“I’d like to visit Abigail. Maybe we could take her to lunch,” Hannibal suggests as he watches Will. 

Will nods and pulls down two plates from the cupboard. “No drugs this time?”

“No drugs this time,” Hannibal confirms with a smile. 

Will sets both of their dinner plates across from each other in the kitchen table, then pulls down two cups for water. 

Hannibal sits in front of one of the plates and mentally prepares himself for this meal. He hopes Will might let him make something simple, but homemade for dinner tomorrow night, but he doesn’t get those hopes too high. Will has as good as said that Hannibal is intruding on his weekend and Hannibal doesn’t want to push it more than he has. 

Will watches him take his first bites and it reminds Hannibal of how he does the same every time he cooks. Hannibal doesn’t think the food is bad, it’s just not at all his first choice of cuisine. 

“Did you kill anyone while we were…” Will trails off.

Hannibal considers his options here. Of course he did kill as the Ripper, but he can’t say that. Will’s face shows that his question is genuine, meaning that Will still has not put it together that Hannibal is the Ripper and isn’t looking for that answer. Hannibal knows he can get away with a lie right now.

“No. I considered it. In New York.” 

“Besides Alana?”

Hannibal nods slowly. “Right after I left you that voice message, I considered finding someone impolite, but I didn’t have the means to actually get away with it,” Hannibal explains.

“Is that your criteria? Impoliteness?” Will asks. He pushes his empty plate away from him and leans back in his chair, hands clasped over his stomach.

“For the most part. I have killed for more complex reasons, but oftentimes that can be tracked as a motive. If I kill someone for simply stepping on my foot at the grocery store, it’s not something other people would notice at the time, so they wouldn’t consider me a suspect,” Hannibal shrugs. 

He wonders why exactly he’s telling Will this, but he finds himself not wanting to lie. 

“So anyone could be your next target, then,” Will says. 

“Well, no,” Hannibal says, shaking his head. He doesn’t elaborate further. 

“No traceable motive, no connection between victims. I suppose you hold onto them somehow for years before acting, don’t you? So they don’t even remember who you are,” Will states. “I’ve gotta hand it to you. Not a bad way to do it, though I can’t entirely agree with your proclivities.”

“I wouldn’t expect an employee of the FBI to agree with what I do,” Hannibal responds. “I haven’t been caught, yet, but I am certain you’d be the only one capable, regardless.”

“And I don’t plan on catching you. I like you too much to put you in prison.”

“Well, that’s reassuring.”

“Was that _sarcasm,_ Doctor Lecter? Is that not impolite?”

“Are you suggesting I kill myself, dear Will?” Hannibal asks, light hearted. He picks up his empty plate, as well as Will’s and carries them over to the sink. 

Will gets up from his seat and stands behind Hannibal at the sink. He goes up on his toes just a bit so he can put his chin on Hannibal’s shoulder, and he wraps his arms around Hannibal’s waist.

“Of course not,” Will says softly. His voice is shaking ever so slightly and Hannibal can tell he must be upset by the suggestion, despite it being a joke, and he makes a mental note to refrain from such jokes in the future. 

Hannibal sets the plates he was washing down and turns to face Will. 

“I’ve upset you,” Hannibal whispers.

“No, no. It’s okay,” Will says dismissively. He steps away and takes Hannibal’s place at the sink, washing the dishes himself. 

Now Hannibal stands behind him, lowers his head so he can nose at Will’s neck, leaves featherlight kisses along his neck and jaw. His hands make their way around Will’s body and he moves his palms along Will’s stomach and chest. 

* * *

“You’re trying to distract me,” Will points out when Hannibal’s fingers dance across his waistband. He groans when Hannibal’s lips start to suck on the spot just below his ear. “Hannibal.”

“Yes, darling?” Hannibal whispers, breath hot on Will’s neck. 

Will dries his hands on a dish towel, then places them over Hannibal’s, stopping them from going any lower. Hannibal’s lips latch onto his neck again and Will knows he’s going to be left with marks.

“You’re relentless,” Will says, a hint of a gasp making its way into his words. He wishes he could remain unaffected, but Hannibal’s pressed up against his back, lips attached to his neck, hands attempting to move, attempting to touch any part of Will’s body, it seems. He’s very affected.

“Do you want me to stop?” 

“No,” Will breathes, then shakes his head. “But, yes. You should stop. For now.”

Will lets that hang in the air as Hannibal takes a step away. Will grips the edge of the counter and attempts to compose himself for a second. 

“For now?” Hannibal asks after a second.

Will nods and swallows, then turns to face Hannibal. “I meant what I said about wanting to take things slower. I don’t want sex to be the foundation of this relationship. I mean, I know it’s not, but before… it did take me nearly a week to realize we weren’t just hooking up, you know? Sorry, I’m not… I don’t know if I’m making any sense about this, it’s just me being insecure, I guess.”

“Not to turn into a psychiatrist here, but why do you believe you feel this way?” Hannibal asks. 

“My empathy. I already know that’s the problem,” Will shrugs. “Usually I know people’s intentions; whether they just want sex or if they want something more from me, and I’m fine either way if I know that. With you, though…” 

“You can’t read my intentions,” Hannibal finishes for him. 

“Right. You build your defenses too high for me to see over, and I understand there’s probably a reason for it, but it’s just difficult with you. Because,” Will waves his hand, looking for the words he hands to say. “I want more than something casual, and you say you want that too, and I hear your words, but I don’t feel them. Sometimes there’s glimpses of your feelings, but they’re always fleeting. Or they’re when we’re in sexual situations. That’s not enough for me.”

Hannibal doesn’t say anything, and Will doesn’t blame him. 

“I’m not going to ask you to become something you’re not and be outward about your emotions, or drop your walls, but that’s just… where I am about it. If it helps you at all, you don’t need to hide from me. I’m not going to judge you for your emotions, or take advantage of them. You’re safe with me, Hannibal,” Will says sincerely. 

He doesn’t know if it’s something Hannibal needs to hear, but Will knows it’s something he would want to hear himself in a situation like this. Will builds his own defenses, too, he knows that. 

“My psychiatrist has told me I wear a person suit, pretending to be something I’m not, always,” Hannibal says after a second. Will realizes Hannibal is trying to drop that mask as he speaks, and there’s a sadness coming from him, his eyes are lowered to the ground. He’s trying to open himself, but he won’t look Will in the eye, likely remembering that’s how Will tends to read people best. “I don’t want to wear my person suit, to continue the metaphor, with you.”

“You don’t have to. I want you, Hannibal. Not something fake, okay? Come here,” Will says, opening his arms. 

Hannibal steps into Will’s arms and rests his chin atop Will’s head. 

“I know you’re trying,” Will whispers. “I know you push a lot of things down and don’t let yourself feel. I’m not asking you to change how you cope, okay?”

“I know, Will.”

“I just need to know sometimes that your feelings match up with your words,” Will says. “I’m not asking for it all the time.”

“I know.”

Will feels the need to keep making it clear, but he lets himself drop it for the moment, and let the embrace speak for him, squeezing Hannibal tight.

Hannibal whispers something into Will’s hair, but it was quiet and didn’t sound like English.

“What was that, baby?” Will asks. He’s sure Hannibal won’t tell him. It would’ve been understandable, if Hannibal wanted him to know, but it doesn’t hurt to try.

“Talking to myself, darling,” Hannibal responds. “When did you say Miss Katz would be calling?”

“Six or seven. What time is it now?”

“Fifteen after six.”

“Mm,” Will hums, squeezes Hannibal, then lets go of him. “I’m going to change.”

“You look fine,” Hannibal says.

“I smell like you. I think Jack would notice,” Will sighs. “I can’t show up places wearing your clothes anymore. That’s how Beverly figured us out.”

Hannibal sighs. “Very well.”

“You’re possessive, huh? You like when I wear your sweaters because then everyone knows I belong to someone. Because there’s no way I’d buy something too big, or this expensive.”

“Perhaps,” Hannibal shrugs. “Is my possessiveness an issue?”

Will laughs. “No.”

He turns and walks out of the kitchen and opens his dresser to pull out one of the button downs Hannibal bought him. Halfway through buttoning up the back shirt, Hannibal walks into the room and makes an approving sound. He steps closer to Will and finishes buttoning it for him, leaving the top two undone.

Hannibal places his palm over Will’s heart and suddenly, Will feels like he doesn’t want to leave anymore. Such a simple gesture, but so gentle, Hannibal feeling the beats of Will’s heart. 

He thinks about pulling him in for another hug, but god they’ve hugged a lot, and Will feels like if he does it again he won’t want to let go. 

“Come with me,” Will whispers, against his better judgement. 

“I fear that would be unwise,” Hannibal says, always the voice of reason. “I do need to do some things in Baltimore tonight and I’d rather not be too late driving back here. If I go with you, it’ll likely cause us to get home too late.”

“I know, I know,” Will says. “I should take care of the dogs.”

Hannibal nods and steps away. “I think I should leave now. What time do you expect you’ll be back?”

Will shrugs. “I’ll probably only have one beer, but we’ll all talk. They want to see what I think about the case.”

“Well, if I return before you, I’ll let myself in,” Hannibal says. 

“That’s fine. The dogs might want to go out but if they don’t listen when you call them in, they’ll be fine outside until I get home, or until they get bored and come back,” Will says, walking to the door to let them outside now. 

Hannibal pulls on his coat and slips on his shoes, then meets Will at the door. 

“If I were to go fishing with you tomorrow, what should I bring?” Hannibal asks.

“Warm clothes. I have an extra pair of waders, but you’ll feel cold under them,” Will says. “You don’t have to fish with me.”

“Would you prefer I didn’t?”

 _Yes,_ Will thinks. Instead, he shrugs. “It’s normally something I do on my own.”

“Darling, if you want to fish alone, that is okay with me,” Hannibal says softly. “You need only say.”

Will nods. “I’d rather go alone.”

Hannibal nods in understanding. “I know I've already invited myself to stay with you, which perhaps I shouldn't have done. Your personal activities and alone time are very important to you and I wouldn’t wish to intrude on those, as well.”

“I want you here this weekend. Just, I don’t want to take you fishing,” Will says. His phone starts ringing in his pocket and he pulls it out to answer. “Hey, Bev.”

“Hey, Will, we’re leaving Quantico now. You still coming?” Beverly asks.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. See you,” Will says and hangs up. “Well, I better go.”

“I’ll see you later, darling,” Hannibal says and leans forward to kiss Will once.

Will calls the dogs inside and watches Hannibal leave, then gets in his own car and heads towards the bar. 

“Will!” Jimmy calls when Will walks in. 

Will pushes through all the people at the bar, it is Friday night after all, and makes his way to the table in the corner. 

“No Jack tonight?” Will asks, sliding into the booth next to Beverly.

Brian shakes his head. “Went home to be with his wife.”

“You heard about Miss Crawford, right?” Jimmy asks.

Will nods. “Han- Doctor Lecter told me.”

“First name basis with your psychiatrist, huh?” Jimmy teases, catching Will’s slip.

Will shrugs. “Not really my psychiatrist. We have conversations to make sure I don’t go insane.”

“Right. Because that’s not therapy, at all.”

“We’re friends, it’s not strictly professional.”

Jimmy drops it after that and Will wonders if it had anything to do with the way Beverly's face moved out of the corner of his eye. Likely a glare, but Will can’t be sure. 

“Anyways, yeah, that’s really sad about Bella,” Beverly says. “I feel terrible for both of them. Can’t be easy.”

“Can’t be,” Will agrees. “I’m gonna get a drink.”

Will slides out of the booth and makes his way to the bar, and waits for the bartender to notice him. He orders his drink and goes back to the table when he gets it. The group is huddled over the table, speaking in hushed voices. He gets back into the booth and realizes they’re talking about the case.

“He’s making angels to watch over him?” Will asks after they give him a brief explanation of the crime scene. Will gives them what little insight he can provide without seeing the scene or photos, which isn’t a lot at all. “Oh, I should mention I’m seeing a neurologist soon. I might be out of work for a bit.”

“What for?” Jimmy asks. 

“Doctor Lecter thinks I might have encephalitis,” Will says, taking a sip of his beer. “I’ve been having symptoms and he wants me to get a brain scan to make sure.”

“Well, shit. It’s good you’ve caught it early,” Brian says. “When’s your appointment?”

“Lecter said he’s gonna call in a few favors and see if he can get his friend to see me sometime early next week.”

“Does Jack know?” Beverly asks.

Will shakes his head. “Not yet. I think Hannibal said something about me being sick this morning when I didn’t come to the scene, but we didn’t talk until this afternoon about the brain scan.”

“Well, let us know if you need anything. If you get hospitalized I can feed the dogs, or I can get your mail, or whatever,” Jimmy offers. “I’ll bring you flowers and a balloon, for sure.”

“Flowers and balloons would be unnecessary, but yeah I’ll let you know about the dogs,” Will nods. He’s sure Hannibal could do it, but at the same time he thinks he might want Hannibal visiting him whenever he’s not working. “It’s early as far as I know, so I don’t think I’ll be hospitalized for long, though.” 

“Keep us updated,” Beverly requests. 

“I will, don’t worry,” Will says. 

After another half an hour of them talking, the subject having wildly changed to something completely unrelated to illness, Will finds himself getting a second drink. 

Then he gets a text from Hannibal. 

_Would Tuesday at 3 o’clock work for you?_

Will sends back an affirmative and Hannibal sends back a red heart emoji, which causes Will to smile. Beverly sees it over his shoulder and nudges his knee with her own, a smile on her face. 

“You two are good, then?” she asks quiet, but not quietly enough, as Brian still raises an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, everything’s good,” Will says. 

“Ah who has our sweet William’s attention today?” Jimmy teases. 

“Just Will,” Will corrects, though he knows Jimmy hasn’t forgotten. “And no one.”

“No, come on Graham, who is she?” Brian asks, reaching for Will’s phone. 

Will locks it and slides it back into his pocket before Brian can reach it. 

“None of your business, Zeller.”

“Keeping a low profile?” Jimmy asks. 

Will nods. “You could say that.” 

Some time later Will’s phone vibrates in his pocket again and Will realizes they’ve been sitting there for a few hours now. There’s another message from Hannibal. 

_Are your dogs allowed on the couch, or is Buster lying to me?_

Will laughs and sends back a message of his own. 

_it’s fine. you’re at my house? i can leave now and be there soon._

Will doesn’t wait for Hannibal’s response before he’s pulling his jacket back on and standing. 

“Gotta get home. I’ll come see you guys in the lab on Monday if you don’t get whisked away to a crime scene,” he says, pulling his keys out of his pocket. He’s suddenly buzzing with the need to get home to Hannibal. 

“Alright, see you, Will,” Beverly says. 

Hannibal’s response comes through as he’s walking out the door, back into the cold air. 

_Don’t let me keep you from your friends, darling. Enjoy your time, I will be here when you get home._

Will shakes his head and puts his phone back in his pocket. He already knows Hannibal doesn’t entirely mean it, that he wants Will all to himself, but Will appreciates the message either way. 

He gets in his car and he’s home within twenty minutes. He finds Hannibal on the couch, a book in hand, Buster in his lap. Hannibal looks up when Will walks in and starts taking off his jacket and shoes. 

“Hey,” Will says. He crosses the room and shoos Buster out of Hannibal's lap, then takes the dog's spot, draping himself across Hannibal’s thighs. 

“Hello,” Hannibal whispers, a hint of surprise in his voice. He sets the book down on the side table and his arms make their way around Will’s waist. 

“Buster likes you,” Will says. 

“So it would seem. He likes the space between his ears scratched.”

“Yes, I know,” Will laughs. 

“Did you have fun?” Hannibal asks.

“Mhm. Good to be back, though,” Will says. 

Will can feel the fondness and adoration coming from Hannibal, as if holding Will and hearing him talk is the best thing in the world. He can’t help the little gasp he makes when he’s overcome with Hannibal’s feelings. 

“Hannibal,” he breathes. 

“Hm?” Hannibal presses his nose into Will’s neck, then kisses him lightly, ghosting kisses across all the bare skin he can reach. 

Will tilts Hannibal’s chin up so they can meet each other’s eyes, and Will knows just how hard Hannibal is trying to show him everything. Their lips meet, soft and slow, but Will’s hand finds Hannibal’s hair, and Hannibal’s tongue swipes across Will’s lips and Will knows he’s a goner. 

“Bed?” Will breathes, pulling away. 

“I thought-” Hannibal starts, but Will cuts him off with a kiss. 

“I can tell you’re trying. That’s all I need. I can tell that you want me more than you’ve wanted anyone, which is…” Will trails off and laughs nervously. “It’s not bad, or unwelcome. Just new. Very new for me.” 

“I fear it may be true. You’re different than anyone I have ever known,” Hannibal whispers. 

And oh god, Will can tell he’s being truthful and he wants to hold Hannibal close and never let him go for as long as he breathes. Their separation only made his heart grow fonder, as the saying goes. He’s always heard it, but he knows now just how true it is. He doesn’t move from his spot in Hannibal’s lap, just cups both of the man’s cheeks and stares down into his eyes.

“Tell me what you want, Will,” Hannibal whispers, breath skating across Will’s lips. 

Will wants to kiss him, so he does just that. Then he grinds ever so slightly into Hannibal’s lap, garnering a breathy noise from Hannibal. 

“I want to be inside of you,” Will whispers. He noses at Hannibal’s cheekbone, presses their faces close. There’s something that sounds like a growl coming from Hannibal’s chest, and next thing Will knows he’s being lifted and carried bridal style to his bed. 

“Yes,” Hannibal says, somewhat belatedly as he lays Will down on the sheets. “Anything you want, my love.”

Will stops for a second at that, just looks at Hannibal, who is standing next to the bed, undoing the buttons on his shirt. Hannibal doesn’t seem to notice he said anything new, and then Will’s memory of the night before comes back, and Hannibal had said it when he found Will trembling in bed. But that… Will was in distress, it was just something soothing to say. Right?

_My love._

_Does Hannibal love me?_ Will thinks to himself. He shakes his head and pretends there’s nothing to think about and he sits up. 

Hannibal is already out of his shirt and is unzipping his pants, but he stays in his underwear to help Will unbutton his own shirt, steady fingers undoing each button with no fumbling, unlike Will’s own. 

Will takes in the sight of Hannibal in front of him, then reaches out to let his fingers skim across the small, tight shorts Hannibal’s wearing, lightly grazing Hannibal’s half hard cock through the thin fabric. 

“Are these silk?” Will asks, looking up to see the faint smile on Hannibal’s lips. 

Hannibal hums an affirmative sound, then drops his hands to the buckle of Will’s belt. 

“I can buy you some if you’d like,” Hannibal suggests, undoing Will’s belt and then going for the button of his pants, then his zipper. 

Will stands and lets Hannibal push his pants down, then steps out of them.

“That won’t be necessary,” Will laughs. He reaches out to slip his fingers under the waistband, then pushes down on them, freeing Hannibal’s cock. 

Will takes him in his hand and strokes him until he’s fully hard, kissing Hannibal’s throat as they stand there together. 

* * *

It takes Hannibal a second to start moving again, too caught up in the feeling of Will’s hand on him, but he snaps out of his and pushes down at Will’s boxers, then takes his cock in hand to work him to hardness. 

Hannibal pushes Will down on the bed and climbs over him, kissing the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, then moving down his throat, to his chest. Will squirms under him when Hannibal’s mouth reaches his nipples, but he doesn’t linger long before he’s kissing down Will’s stomach, and then his hip bones. 

He glances up at Will, asking permission with his eyes, and Will nods. 

Hannibal pauses for a second, then sits up and back in his heels. “Should we be using a condom?”

“I’m clean, but,” Will waves his hand in the air vaguely, voice not quite caught up with his brain. “Your choice.” 

“Very well,” Hannibal says and lowers himself back down, face just inches above Will’s cock. He lightly kisses the shaft before licking a line from root to tip, earning a small noise from Will. 

He smiles and takes Will into his mouth, sucking at the head and swiping his tongue over the slit, earning small breathy moans from Will. Hannibal smiles to himself again before lowering his face and taking more of Will’s cock in his mouth, tightening his lips, being mindful of his teeth. 

Hannibal runs one hand up Will’s flank, then over his chest, then seeks out one of Will’s hands, places it in his hair. He’s pleased by the sounds coming out of Will’s mouth, and makes no attempt to stop the man’s small thrusts into his mouth, just trails his hands over any part of Will’s body he can reach. 

Will’s other hand is gripping the sheets next to him, body squirming under Hannibal’s mouth. 

“Hannibal, Hannibal,” Will whispers after another minute, voice strained, tugging at Hannibal’s hair. “That’s enough. Come up here.”

Hannibal pulls off of Will’s cock, a string of saliva coming away with him. He wipes it away and slides back up Will’s body so he can kiss Will soundly on the lips. 

“How do you want me?” Hannibal whispers against Will’s mouth. 

“On your back,” Will whispers back, then catches Hannibal’s lips in another kiss. 

Hannibal lays down next to Will as Will rolls over to sit on the edge of the bed. Hannibal takes his own neglected, aching cock in hand, giving him a few strokes to relieve some of that. 

* * *

Will hesitates over his bedside drawer, hand hovering over a condom while he holds the lube with his other hand. He told Hannibal he didn’t need one for a blowjob, but would Hannibal want him to use one now? 

He glances over his shoulder at the gorgeous man, sprawled out on his bed, lazily touching himself while he waits. Hannibal looks over and seemingly senses his hesitance. 

“Is something wrong, darling?” Hannibal asks, reaching out to trace Will’s spine with a fingertip. 

Will holds up a condom and raises an eyebrow at Hannibal. 

Hannibal shakes his head. “Up to you. I’m clean.”

And Will trusts him, so he tosses it back into the drawer and shuts it, then gets back on the bed, setting the lube down next to Hannibal as he settles on his knees between Hannibal’s spread legs. 

He leans forward, putting his hands on the mattress on either side of Hannibal’s head and looks down into his eyes. Hannibal’s hands make their way up Will’s sides and eventually move to cup Will’s cheeks. 

“Will,” Hannibal breathes. “You don’t know how beautiful you are.” 

Will feels his cheeks heat up under Hannibal’s large hands. He leans down to kiss his lips, closing his eyes to get away from the intensity of Hannibal's gaze. 

“You’re gorgeous, Hannibal. I can’t even begin to describe how much,” Will whispers when their lips part from each other. He goes back down for another kiss, a soft, tender thing, with so much feeling from the both of them.

He rests their foreheads together and breathes, long, deep breathes, wanting to savor this. The way Hannibal is allowing Will in makes Will want to live in this moment forever. But as he opens his empathy up, to the way Hannibal is dropping down his walls, it becomes apparent that it’s too much, too fast. He feels so much at once. 

Will still doesn’t know if he can – should – call this love. So he doesn’t say anything, just clears his throat and pulls away, trying to distance himself from the feeling for a moment. 

He’s slightly overwhelmed by it all. From very little coming from Hannibal, to so much, Will doesn’t know where he ends and Hannibal begins. He knows it will likely become worse once Will’s actually inside him. Currently he’s just sitting on his knees between Hannibal’s legs, eyes closed as he composes himself. 

Hannibal sits up and pulls Will in for an embrace, skin on skin _on skin._ So many points of contact, but as long as none of that contact is _eye contact_ then he can handle it for now. He buries his face in Hannibal’s throat and clutches at his upper arms. 

“Will, darling,” Hannibal whispers. “We don’t have to tonight.”

Will shakes his head and swallows loud. He takes a steadying breath. “I want to, Hannibal. I just need a few seconds.”

Hannibal kisses the top of his head. “You’re uncomfortable.”

“I’m okay, baby,” Will whispers. “Can we just take it slow? I think it’ll help me to take a few minutes to make sure I’m all here, rather than withdraw every time it’s too much.”

“Is it too much?” Hannibal asks. “Tell me what’s going on in your head.”

“I-” _Love you._ “don’t know if it’s what I’m feeling or what you’re feeling. But it’s all a lot.” 

“We’ll take our time, love,” Hannibal says with a nod. “Likely for the best. It’s been quite some time for me.”

There's that damn word again. Love. All Will can do is nod against Hannibal’s chest and then pull away. He pushes Hannibal back down to lay on his back, then leans forward to kiss him just once. 

Will sits up and picks up the lube resting next to Hannibal’s hip. He takes his time working Hannibal open with his fingers, only adding another when Hannibal asks. He leans down and kisses Hannibal’s stomach, runs his free hand up and down his thigh. 

Hannibal watches him intently, something in his eyes that Will can’t quite place. Will realizes Hannibal’s pulled back a bit, isn't as freely letting Will see him, and for once Will’s grateful for that. He got what he wanted, and it was so much more than he could have been prepared for, so now he’ll allow Hanniabl to zip his person suit back up, sit on the other side of that barrier. 

“I’m ready, darling,” Hannibal says after many long minutes. 

“Sure?” Will asks, pulling out his fingers at Hannibal’s nod and leaning forward to kiss him. 

Hannibal lifts his hips and wraps his legs around Will’s waist, then wraps his arms around his shoulders and pulls Will down on top of him. Will laughs and pulls back. 

“Give me a second. I didn’t take you as being impatient,” Will laughs, grabbing the lube off the bed and slicking up his cock.

“I am not impatient,” Hannibal protests. 

Will smirks and lines himself up, slowly pushing the head of his cock into Hannibal, earning a small moan from the man below him. Will pushes just a bit further, then falls forward to where Hannibal had him before, their stomachs trapping Hannibal’s hard cock between them.

Hannibal moans into Will’s mouth as Will continues to push into him, and Will drinks them down, responding in kind as he slowly pushes into Hannibal’s tight body. Hannibal doesn’t seem to mind that Will is taking his sweet time, so he doesn’t do anything differently.

Will feels a hand in his hair, fingers tangling, and another hand finds one of his own where it rests next to Hannibal's head. 

When Will is fully inside Hannibal, he doesn’t move at all, makes no attempt to pull out and thrust back in, letting Hannibal fully adjust. He attaches his lips to Hannibal’s neck and leaves bites and kisses across all the skin. Hannibal whispers something into his hair, but Will doesn’t quite catch it.

He pulls back, just even to look Hannibal in the eyes. “What was that, baby?”

Hannibal clears his throat. “I said you can move.”

Will doesn’t entirely believe him, but he nods, places a kiss on Hannibal’s cheek and starts to roll his hips, ever so slightly. 

“I won’t break, darling,” Hannibal murmurs.

Will shakes his head. “I know. I know, just let me,” Will swallows and ducks his head into Hannibal’s neck again. “Just let me have this, okay? We’re going slow, right?”

“Okay,” Hannibal whispers, hand cradling the back of Will’s head, holding him close. His other arm makes its way around to hold Will’s back, pressing their bodies even closer, if that’s possible. “Whatever you need.” 

So Will continues to grind his hips, not quite actually thrusting, as Hannibal clutches onto him, legs and arms wrapped tightly around his body. 

Last time they had sex, Will thought _that_ was too intimate, but this… this is leagues beyond that. He tries to welcome it this time, tries to allow himself to feel this way, but his body responds with tears welling up in his eyes. 

The last two weeks come flooding back to him and he has to push down a sob, hoping Hannibal mistakes it for a sound of pleasure, rather than for what it is. If Hannibal suspects anything different, he doesn’t say a word. Will rewards him by pulling out halfway and pushing back in, still slow, but more than what he was giving before. 

He keeps his head buried in Hannibal’s throat, sucking and biting as tears start to fall from his eyes. He’s too overwhelmed by all the lingering emotions, he can tell Hannibal’s not trying to mask his own like he was before. Will feels like he should’ve known this would be a mistake, but he doesn’t admit defeat, just continues to thrust slowly into Hannibal. 

It feels _good_ and Will doesn’t want to stop, and he feels so loved, but he doesn’t know if he entirely deserves that. Not after he pushed Hannibal away from him for two weeks, not after he accused him of being unfaithful, and didn’t call him back. 

It’s all so conflicting. 

“Darling,” Hannibal whispers. Will doesn’t lift his head from Hannibal’s neck, doesn’t change the pace of his movements. Hannibal says, more firmly this time, “Will.”

Will kisses his shoulder and lifts his head, knowing Hannibal will see his tear stained cheeks, and his red eyes, but he figures Hannibal likely felt those hot tears on his skin. 

“Tell me what’s going on,” Hannibal whispers, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “What’s wrong?”

Will sighs and comes to a halt. He pulls out, even though physically he really does not want to, but mentally… Mentally he needs to pull away entirely. Lock himself away in his mind for a few hours to think, away from Hannibal. 

He lays down on his back next to Hannibal, cock still hard, still wanting more, but he knows he needs to have this conversation if he wants to move past it.

“Nothing. Everything,” Will says, finally. Hannibal doesn’t respond, just turns on his side and traces over Will’s stomach with his finger tips. Will knows he has to elaborate if he wants to get Hannibal to talk. He takes a deep breath and stares up at the ceiling. “You love me, don’t you?”

Hannibal’s fingers come to a stop for half a second before moving again. “And if I do?”

“I don’t deserve it,” Will says. 

“I disagree.”

“Hannibal, we haven’t been together long at all. I hurt you. How can you?” Will asks, voice strained. He’s still fighting back tears, biting back sobs.

There’s a stretch of silence before Hannibal finally speaks. “Some say love at first sight doesn’t exist, but I can give them proof otherwise.”

“Hannibal,” Will sighs. “I don’t… I don’t know if…”

“Will. I don’t expect you to.” 

“I think I might, but I don’t know if that’s me, or you inside my head,” Will whispers. “Can you give me time to figure my shit out?”

Hannibal flattens his palm on Will’s stomach. “You can have anything you need, but I do hope that doesn’t entail us separating again.”

Will shakes his head. “I can’t do that again.”

“Good. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll always do anything in my power to give it to you,” Hannibal murmurs. He leans over and kisses Will softly on the lips.

“First and foremost, I need to get off. And I think you do, too,” Will says with a laugh. “Christ. I’m sorry I’m such a basket case.”

“Your brain may very well be on fire, darling. I don’t blame you in the slightest,” Hannibal says. “Sit up.”

So Will does, and Hannibal climbs over his legs, straddling Will’s thighs. He reaches down, grabs hold of Will’s cock, then pushes himself up on his knees.

“May I?” Hannibal asks, just as Will feels the head of his cock lightly pressing against Hannibal’s entrance. 

Will’s breath hitches in his throat and he nods. Hannibal sinks down on him and Will wraps his arms around Hannibal’s waist to keep himself upright. 

* * *

“We can, ah, talk after, but, mm, as I said, I’ll give you anything you need, and both of us need this,” Hannibal says, words broken up by moans as he sets a pace. Not too fast, but definitely more than Will was giving him.

Hannibal shifts his angle slightly and digs his fingers into Will’s shoulders with every brush against his prostate. He takes what he wants, fucking himself on Will’s cock.

Will lays down, taking Hannibal with him, arms wrapped too tightly around Hannibal’s waist for him to try and stay upright. Hannibal slows to a halt, so he can speak honestly and clearly. 

“I do, Will. I do love you, and I know you think you don’t deserve it, and I know they’re just words that don’t fully capture how I truly feel about you, but I want you to hear it. I think it would do you some good to hear it. I love you, Will.”

“Hannibal,” Will says, voice strained, tears welling up in his eyes again. 

Hannibal leans down and kisses each cheek, and then his lips. “You don’t need to say it back, you don’t need to feel the same way. I will still tell you anytime you need to hear it.” 

Will doesn’t say anything, just pulls Hannibal down for another kiss. It’s not at all elegant. Their noses smash together, their teeth clank, but Hannibal understands. It’s all he needs.

Hannibal starts moving his hips again, and Will pushes up to meet him with each thrust. Hannibal reaches between them and grabs his own cock, jerking himself off in time with each thrust.

“Close,” he murmurs against Will’s lips.

Hannibal is surprised by the sudden movement of Will rolling them over, gasps as his back hits the bed and Will speeds up, fucking him like he means it now, holding himself up by his hands on either side of Hannibal’s head. 

When Hannibal comes, his back is arched, and Will’s name is coming out of his mouth as he clenches around Will’s cock. It only takes Will a few more hard thrusts before he’s there, coming inside Hannibal with a loud moan. 

He leans down to catch Hannibal’s lips with his own, pulls his softening cock out of Hannibal’s body, then rolls onto his back to lay next to Hannibal, breathing hard. 

“Thanks,” Will says after a minute. “I needed that.”

“I need a shower,” Hannibal responds.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Will says, almost wistfully. 

“Join me.” 

Will’s expression becomes less withdrawn, his eyes a little less sad. Hannibal has no idea what has been going through Will’s mind this entire night, but he’s determined to make it all better if he can. 

“You go ahead, I think the dogs might need to go out,” Will says, looking over to the crowd of dogs laying by the door, as far away from the bed as possible. “I think we traumatized them.”

Hannibal can’t help but laugh at that. He gets up from the bed and walks carefully towards the bathroom, very aware of Will’s come attempting to go down his thighs. He starts the water, and while he lets it warm up, he looks in the mirror. 

Will left quite a few marks on the skin on his neck, but he can’t find it in him to be upset for any reason. Rather, he’s glad that everyone will know he belongs to someone, even if they don’t know who. 

He checks the water temperature with his hand, then steps in when it’s comfortable. A few seconds later, Will comes into the bathroom and steps into the shower behind him.

“Did they go out?” Hannibal asks, reaching for his own soap that he brought over to start cleaning himself. 

“Yeah, I’m letting them roam for a bit. They should be fine,” Will says, reaching for another product. Hannibal sees it’s his own shampoo, but doesn’t say anything. It Will wants to use it, that’s fine with him.

Instead, Will starts lathering it into Hannibal’s hair and Hannibal moans at the sensation of Will’s fingers massaging his scalp. 

Will washes Hannibal’s hair for him, then presses light kisses to his shoulders. 

“We don’t have to talk tonight, do we?” Will asks quietly, just barely loud enough to be heard over the spray of the water. Will rests his forehead on Hannibal’s shoulder, then whispers, “I’m exhausted, Hannibal.”

“Tomorrow, then,” Hannibal agrees. 

He knows it’s late, and Will has had an exhausting couple of days. He still wants to get to the bottom of what Will’s been feeling, why he seems so sad and withdrawn. Hannibal hopes he hasn’t put together that he’s the Ripper yet. He knows that finding that out would get him a similar reaction, best case. Worst case, Will breaks all of his stuff and attempts to kill him. Or he leaves him. 

“It’s nothing you’ve done, I just want you to know that,” Will whispers. Hannibal lets himself relax, throwing out his previous thoughts. “I’m just…”

“Will, darling, you don’t need to explain yourself tonight,” Hannibal says, turning to face him. He kisses him once, then turns to shut off the water. “Let’s go to bed.”

Will shuts his eyes and nods and Hannibal can see all the exhaustion on his face. Will is making absolutely no attempt to hide anything and Hannibal pulls him into a wet and slippery hug, letting Will slump against him while they stand in the shower, slowing air drying without the spray of water falling on them.

“Come on,” Hannibal says, pulling away and stepping out, Will following close behind. 

He gets a towel from the cabinet and hands it to Will before taking one for himself and drying off. Once dry, they leave the bathroom, put on underwear and tshirts, and Hannibal makes Will lay down.

“The dogs,” Will says, trying to get up, but Hannibal holds him down gently by his shoulders. 

“I’ll get them,” Hannibal says, already letting go of Will and going towards the door.

They’re all waiting to be let in and Hannibal counts each one as they walk in, making sure they’re all inside before shutting the door and locking it. He turns to see that Winston has gotten into the bed beside Will, on Hannibal’s side, and he frowns inwardly, wanting that space for himself. 

He stops frowning when Will pushes Winston further across the bed, Will rolling more towards the center so Hannibal can get into bed behind Will. He shuts off the lamp by the bed and lays on Will’s side, Will sandwiched between Hannibal and the dog. 

Hannibal slings his arm over Will’s stomach and pulls him back toward him, so they’re sharing body heat in the chilly house. Will is really, really warm, and Hannibal knows that probably has a big part in why he’s so tired, and his exhaustion is likely why he’s been so emotional. Trying to keep it together both physically and mentally. 

He kisses the back of Will’s neck and holds him tight.

“I don’t think I’m going fishing in the morning,” Will whispers.

“No?”

Will shakes his head. “I don’t feel good tonight. Probably won’t be a good idea.”

Hannibal hums against his neck. “You need a lot of rest.”

“Yeah, but all my rest is… bad.”

“I know, darling. We have your appointment on Tuesday. Hopefully we’ll find some answers and some solutions,” Hannibal says.

He can’t believe that, just weeks ago, he wanted this beautiful mind to melt. That he considered using it to his advantage, to frame Will for crimes, to make him go completely mad. Now, seeing him in distress at all hurts Hannibal. Their two week separation was already too much, and Hannibal knows that putting Will in prison would just be worse. 

“I love you,” Hannibal whispers, because he feels like he has to after bringing that line of thinking back to the forefront of his mind. Will doesn’t respond, just finds the hand resting on his stomach and laces their fingers together, giving Hannibal’s hand a light squeeze. 

They fall asleep together just like that, fingers laced together, bodies pressed against one another, Winston’s steady breathing a few inches away. Hannibal didn’t expect to become so completely gone for Will, but here he is, vowing to do anything for him. 

Hannibal wakes up to Will trying to get out from under his arm, and he fears Will is about to sleepwalk, so he holds onto him tighter. 

“Bathroom,” Will whispers. Hannibal relaxes and lets him go, letting Will, fully awake, get up. 

Hannibal drifts back off while Will is gone, and only stirs momentarily when Will settles down next to him again. 

After a few minutes, Hannibal is nearly back asleep, when he hears it. So soft, obvious that Will thinks him to be sound asleep, and won’t hear it. But Hannibal does. 

He hears the whisper of, “I love you.” 

Knowing that Will does not mean for him to hear it, knowing that Will feels too vulnerable to say it to his face, Hannibal pretends he’s asleep. He pretends it’s not music to his ears, that he doesn’t want to roll over on top of Will and make love to him for the rest of the night, until the morning light comes through the windows. He pretends to sleep. He pretends that he deserves to hear those words, and he pretends that he does not hear them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think in the comments!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My longest chapter yet. I was planning on pushing the plot along a lot more in this chapter but all of a sudden I had 12k words and wrote nowhere near what I wanted to plot development-wise. It happens. This just means the fic is gonna end up being really long. I hope you all stick around for it, as I have big plans. 
> 
> Warning beforehand: there is a bit of homophobia from Doctor Sutcliffe. This in no way reflects my personal views. I just think his character seems homophobic and Hannibal will definitely... do what Hannibal does. Eventually. I just wanted to put a warning so you read with caution. It’s not bad, but I’d rather not let it go not warned.

Will has no idea what compelled him to say it. Maybe it’s the fact that Hannibal held him tighter when he thought Will was going to start sleepwalking. Maybe it’s because when he woke up and laid there for a few seconds before deciding to get up, he realized Hannibal was asleep and therefore not influencing any of the feelings he was feeling. Maybe it’s because he’s wanted to say it since the day they met, but didn’t even know it. 

Maybe he says it because when he settles back into bed, Hannibal stretches like a sleepy cat and immediately reaches out for him again. He waits several long minutes, curled up to Hannibal’s chest, face pressed to his beating heart, until he’s certain Hannibal’s breathing is even again, his heartbeat steady and calm. 

The day will come when he says it, knowing Hannibal can hear him, but for now he just wants to see how it feels rolling off of his tongue, how it feels to permeate the air around them. 

It sounds right, but he is not sure if it sounds _truthful._ He knows his mind is starting to play tricks on him, has been for some time now, he just hopes his feelings for Hannibal don’t change after the inflammation clears up. 

When the morning comes, Will wakes to an empty bed. He stretches out on the mattress and the spot recently occupied by Hannibal is barely warm any more. He turns his head and sees the dogs are nowhere to be seen either, so he pushes himself to sit up with a groan. His body is sore and his head hurts, nothing worse than normal, but getting out of bed is a challenge sometimes. 

Hannibal comes back into the room from the kitchen and Will sees dogs peer into the room from the kitchen doorway. 

“Are you hungry?” Hannibal asks, coming to sit down on the edge of the bed. 

Will shakes his head. “Not really.”

“Toast, maybe?”

Will frowns at the thought of eating anything, but decides he can likely get some toast down, so he nods. Hannibal reaches out to push Will’s hair away from his eyes, resting his palm on Will’s forehead. 

“Not feeling well?” 

“I’ll be fine. Can you get me my aspirin?”

“Of course.”

Hannibal disappears towards the bathroom, then goes towards the kitchen instead of bringing the bottle to Will. He normally just dry swallows the pills, but he supposes he can always leave it to Hannibal to not let him do that. Fucking doctors. 

Will is given a glass of water and the bottle of aspirin and takes them with the water. He mumbles a thanks and lays back down on the bed, rolling over to see that Hannibal put the stuffed dog on the nightstand at some point in the last twenty hours. He hadn’t even thought of it. 

“Sleep a little while longer,” Hannibal whispers, sitting back down on the edge of the bed. “I was about to make us breakfast, but I can wait.”

“Have the dogs been out and fed?” Will asks. 

“Yes,” Hannibal nods. 

“Come back to bed,” Will requests. 

Hannibal lays back down behind Will, drapes an arm over his stomach and pulls him close. Will scoots back so he can fit snug against Hannibal’s body. 

“Have you told Jack about your appointment yet?” Hannibal asks. 

“I’ll tell him on Monday. I have to line up someone to cover my lectures, too,” Will sighs. “Do you think Alana would take a few?”

“If she can fit it into her schedule, I’m certain she would. They may allow me to, as well,” Hannibal says. 

Will shakes his head. “Call me selfish, but I’d rather you spend that time with me.”

Hannibal kisses the back of his neck. “Of course, darling.”

Will nods, already drifting back to sleep. He doesn’t even know what time it is, but he really doesn’t care. He could sleep the entire day and not care, just as long as he gets the dogs bathed and their food made. He can do that in the evening. Maybe Hannibal would even make the food if he asks. 

Around noon, Will feels a lot better and finally gets up for the day. Hannibal makes them chicken soup for lunch and Will decides to take the dogs out for a walk after. 

“Care for company?” Hannibal asks as Will puts on his jacket. 

“I need some time to think, so no. You distract me,” Will says with a flirtatious smile, then kisses the corner of Hannibal’s mouth. 

And while he said it as a flirtation, he really needs some time alone. Without his quiet stream this morning like he had planned, he’s been with Hannibal, having to deal with everything that happened the night before. 

Part of Will is embarrassed he almost couldn’t get through sex. Couldn’t do it without crying. The other part of him thinks he should have no reason to be embarrassed, which he knows is true. Hannibal was caring and gentle through it all, so, so understanding. Will is worried that the understanding may soon run out. 

Part of him is also embarrassed he can’t say ‘ _I love you’_ to Hannibal while he’s awake. He came close a few times during lunch: when he realized Hannibal was making him soup to help him feel better; when Hannibal smiled so fondly at him while they stood side by side washing the dishes; even when Hannibal put the leftover soup in a container and told Will where exactly he was putting it in the fridge. 

Will walks through the fields by his house and throws sticks for the dogs, lets them chase them down. It’ll be good to have them less hyper for bath time, good to help them work out some energy before Will inevitably pisses some of them off. 

He wonders how Hannibal will feel about dog bath time. Or how he’ll feel knowing that in the colder months they get washed in the same bathtub they have used themselves. He smiles at the thought, imagining the face Hannibal might make when he sees. 

Walking through the fields with his dogs, he doesn’t have to worry about anything other than making sure they don’t eat a dead animal or try to fight a live one. No one else’s feelings, nothing but the wind and an occasional bark. It’s not as peaceful as his stream, but it’ll do. 

When he returns, Hannibal is sitting on the couch with a book in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other. 

“Drinking without me?” Will asks, taking off his shoes and jacket. 

“So it seems. You were gone for a while,” Hannibal says, tone light and conversational, but he doesn’t look up from his book, as if he’s upset about something.

Will thinks that’s real rich coming from the man that invited himself to stay the weekend, even when Will told him he wasn’t going to change his plans because of it. Will tries not to be bothered and goes to the table where he keeps his liquor. He pours himself a drink, then turns.

He leans back against the table and regards Hannibal, who still hasn’t looked up from his book. He knows Hannibal isn’t actually reading, just looking down at the words and turning the pages after some time has passed.

When it’s clear Hannibal isn’t going to say anything, Will decides to respond. “The dogs had a lot of energy. I need them less hyper if I’m going to get them to stay in the bath.”

Hannibal gives Will the smallest nod and Will has to count to ten so his voice doesn’t come out angry. He doesn’t completely succeed. 

“What’s got _you_ pissed off right now?”

“Nothing, dear. I’m just reading. This story is very captivating,” Hannibal responds.

“Oh cut the shit. You haven’t read a single word since I left the house, have you?” Will sets his drink down on the table and crosses the room, sitting down on the couch next to Hannibal. He plucks the glass and book out of his hands and sets them on the coffee table. He speaks, soft this time, “Talk to me.”

Hannibal sighs. “Very well. I feel as though you’re being avoidant.”

“I just went for a walk. I needed to clear my head, the dogs needed to run.”

“You were gone for over two hours,” Hannibal points out. 

Will really did not realize he was gone for that long. He thought it was closer to an hour, but he brushes it off, assuming he can blame it on getting lost in thought.

“We went far, we had fun. I told you I wasn’t going to cater to you this weekend, and you decided to stay anyways,” Will says. “So what’s really the matter? If it’s that, you don’t have a right to be upset.”

“I would like to talk about last night. And the Ripper scenes. And your night terrors. You keep finding ways to not talk to me,” Hannibal says, quietly. 

“Because I don’t want you to be my therapist in my home. I want you to be my boyfriend,” Will says. “I told you we could talk about last night today. You’re not upset about what happened, are you?”

“No, of course not,” Hannibal says. He finally turns to look Will in the eyes and Will knows he’s being sincere. “I do not know why I am behaving this way.”

Will picks up one of Hannibal’s hands in his own two, and looks down at it as he speaks. “If you want me to be more open with you, you just need to say. I have a hard time expressing in words how I’m feeling, so most of the time I don’t even try. Please don’t get mad at me for the things I can’t control. It’s hard enough as it is.”

“Sweetheart, I could never,” Hannibal whispers. 

Will leans against Hannibal and rests his head on his shoulder. “Last night,” he starts. “I was overwhelmed. I wanted you so bad, but I got too much, all at once.”

Hannibal kisses the top of Will’s head and squeezes his hand in response. He’s letting Will speak, and Will knows that.

“I should have listened to myself,” Will continues, he starts to squeeze Hannibal’s hand himself, a steady rhythm to keep himself grounded. “When I told myself we shouldn’t have sex until we deal with these last two weeks, I should have listened to myself. Instead I thought that, because you were letting me in, everything would be just fine, but… Everything was so conflicting, Hannibal. I was thinking about how bad I’ve been hurting, how I convinced myself you didn’t want me, all the while you were giving me this flood of adoration, and,” Will pauses and tastes the next word before it rolls off his tongue. “And love. And it was… too much.”

“You feel as though you do not deserve my love,” Hannibal whispers. “Whereas I feel as though I do not deserve to love you.”

That strikes something in Will. A realization of how highly Hannibal regards him. He doesn’t truly understand how that can be possible. People never see him that way. Until Hannibal. 

“I’ve never… People never stick around long enough to love me,” Will says quietly. With that, he lets go of Hannibal’s hand and stands, seeking a small amount of distance. He scratches at the scruff on his chin and paces the living room. He picks up his glass and takes a long sip.

Hannibal just watches him, follows him with his eyes as Will tries to figure out what to say next, or while Hannibal tries to figure out what to say in response. Will doesn’t know which is going to come first.

Will decides it’s going to be him. “You’re the first person in probably fifteen years to say it to me.”

“You haven’t been told you were loved since you were twenty?” Hannibal asks. 

Will squeezes his fist at his side a few times and wishes he had Hannibal’s hand to squeeze like he’s been doing that last two days, but he still keeps his distance. “A girl I was seeing at the time said it, but I… didn’t love her back, so I broke up with her. No one else has gotten that far.”

“And yet you haven’t broken up with me. Surely that means something,” Hannibal points out, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head over so slightly. 

Will freezes for a second, wondering if Hannibal heard him last night. He isn’t going to ask, so instead he shrugs. 

“I was with her for six months when she said it to me and I still didn’t love her, nor did I see it happening. We were young. It’s different from this. Us,” Will explains. He doesn’t go beyond that, doesn’t take now to be a time for his own confession, nor does he point out that they have been together for a fraction of that amount of time and still have time for that. He just lets Hannibal take it for what he will. 

“Yes I suppose it would be,” Hannibal nods. He stands from the couch. “I’m going to make dinner. You said you need to bathe the dogs?”

“Yeah,” Will says. “And I need to make their food.”

“I could do that if you tell me what to do,” Hannibal says. “How long will the baths take?” 

Will shrugs. “It depends entirely on their cooperation.”

Hannibal smiles and picks up his glass from the coffee table. He takes a sip, and turns to go towards the kitchen with a glance over his shoulder that Will takes as a request to follow. 

Will gives Hannibal the recipe for the dogs’ food, then approves the meal Hannibal wants to prepare for their own dinner. 

He leaves the kitchen, picks up the two smallest dogs and takes them upstairs to be bathed first. The two hour walk in the field helped, there's nearly no conflict as he sprays them down with water and lathers them with their shampoo. 

Each dog takes their turn, giving him varying levels of discontent. Winston gives him a particularly loud sigh when he’s directed into the bathtub, but it’s expected. 

There’s a soft knock on the door after he’s done with Winston, only two more dogs to go after him. He’s on his knees toweling the dog dry as Hannibal opens the bathroom door behind him. 

“Dinner’s ready if you are,” Hannibal says. 

Will lets Winston go and brushes his hands on his pants as he stands. “Yeah, I think I’ll do the others tomorrow. I’ve used enough hot water tonight.”

Hannibal nods and turns to go back downstairs. Will stops by his dresser when he gets down there and changes into something dry that doesn’t smell like wet-dog. 

Plates are already set on the kitchen table when Will walks in and he sits down in his usual spot just as Hannibal sets down two glasses of wine. 

“Thank you for cooking,” Will says, reaching out to give Hannibal’s hand a quick squeeze before withdrawing. He picks up his utensils and starts to eat.

“It’s my pleasure, darling.”

After a few minutes of silent eating, Will looks across the table. “Do you still want to visit Abigail tomorrow?”

“Yes, if you’d like. Only if you feel up to it,” Hannibal says. 

Will nods. “I’ll be fine.”

After dinner, Will sees that Hannibal made the dog food and it looks fine, so he gives him a kiss on the cheek when he plops down on the couch next to him. 

Hannibal is actually reading the book he had been holding earlier. He turns his face, eyes trying to linger on the sentence he was reading, and catches Will’s lips with his own. 

“Can I turn on the TV or will it disturb your reading?” Will asks. 

Hannibal immediately sets the book down on the side table and tells Will he can. Will snuggles into Hannibal’s side, under his arm and lets himself relax for what feels like the first time since he got out of bed in the morning. 

Will dozes off halfway through the evening news and only wakes when his body is being lifted off the couch and carried to the bed. 

“Hm?” 

“I’ve got you,” Hannibal whispers. 

Will is fully awake and tries to pull himself out of Hannibal’s arms, but he’s really strong and just holds him tighter. 

“Put me down,” Will says.

Hannibal laughs quietly and sets Will to his feet next to the bed.

“Thank you. Why are you so strong?” Will asks, though not entirely seriously. 

“It is rather beneficial. I work out,” Hannibal shrugs. He goes around to the other side of the bed and starts to take off his clothes, then slides under the covers in just his underwear. 

“Don’t you get cold?” Will asks. He knows his house is chilly even if he sweats through the night.

“Sleeping next to you is like sleeping next to a space heater, I will admit,” Hannibal says. “Besides I figure if I sleep in pajamas it will be uncomfortable for how hot you get.”

“Sorry. I can sleep somewhere else if you want,” Will says. He starts to take off his own clothes and tosses them into his laundry basket. 

“I do like sleeping next to you, actually,” Hannibal says, reaching out for Will. Will shakes his head and goes to the front door to let the dogs out. 

He hears Hannibal’s socked-feet shuffle across the floor behind him and then his arms make their way around Will’s waist and pull him into his chest. They watch the dogs through the storm door and when they all come in, they curl up in their beds, except Winston, who goes and gets into Will’s bed. 

“He’s been sleeping with you?” Hannibal asks.

Will nods. “It was nice knowing I wasn’t completely alone when I would wake up from nightmares.” 

“Dogs have calming abilities,” Hannibal nods. 

Will turns off all the lights and they get in bed next to each other. Will buries his face in Hannibal’s chest and Hannibal holds him close as they tangle their legs together and fall asleep.

* * *

Hannibal holds onto Will through the night and tugs him closer when Will tries to move, trying to keep him from sleepwalking.

“Too hot,” Will mumbles into Hannibal’s chest, then turns over when Hannibal releases him. 

Will sleeps on his side of the bed, away from Hannibal. Winston has already found refuge on the floor and realizes Will must have pushed him away. Will’s entire body is soaked in sweat. His t-shirt is completely wet, his boxers too. The blankets are just loosely tangled around his legs even though the house is freezing.

Hannibal carefully moves towards him and rolls Will onto his back so he can remove Will’s underwear with a clinical touch. 

“Not now, baby. Too tired,” Will mumbles, swatting at Hannibal’s hands.

Hannibal laughs and pushes Will’s wet hair away from his forehead. “Take off your shirt. You’ve sweated through it.”

Will makes a, “Mm,” noise, but doesn’t move at all, so Hannibal awkwardly does it for him.

“I have half a mind to carry you upstairs to the bathtub,” Hannibal says, kissing Will on the top of his head. 

“No thanks,” Will says, eyes still closed, lips barely moving as he lightly shakes his head. He rolls over to lay on his stomach and Hannibal figures that’s that then. 

Hannibal gives Will some space and goes back to sleep. Not being a heavy sleeper at all, when the bed shifts and Will is getting up, Hannibal notices.

“Darling?” Hannibal asks into the dark.

When there’s no response, Hannibal quickly gets out of bed and says Will’s name, loud and firm from a few feet away. Will continues walking toward the front door so Hannibal gets in front of him and gently turns him by the shoulders, making him walk back towards the bed. 

“Back to sleep,” Hannibal whispers as he carefully helps Will back into the bed. He lays down next to him, between Will and the door, a change to their usual sleeping positions, but if Will tries to get out of bed again, he’s likely to try climbing over Hannibal. 

Hannibal wraps one arm around Will’s body, kisses his neck and holds him until he stops trying to move. 

In the morning, Hannibal doesn’t mention it to Will, just smiles at him when he wakes. Hannibal pushes Will’s hair out of his eyes and Will leans into his touch. 

“Why am I naked?” Will asks, voice rough from sleep. 

“You were overheated,” Hannibal says. He kisses Will on the shoulder and splays his hand on Will’s stomach. 

“So you undressed me while I was sleeping?”

“You were partially awake. You thought I was trying to have sex with you, I believe.”

“What did I say?” Will asks, rolling over onto his stomach to rest half his body on Hannibal’s. His chin rests on Hannibal’s collarbone and he looks up at Hannibal’s face with those gorgeous eyes, blue and green in the morning light. 

Hannibal laughs quietly. “You said ‘Not now, baby. Too tired,’ then pushed my hands away.” 

“Sounds like something I would say,” Will says. “What time is it?”

Hannibal glances at Will’s alarm clock sitting on the nightstand. “Twenty after eight.”

“When are we going to Port Haven?”

“Arriving around eleven would be ideal. That way we can steal Abigail away before she is served lunch there.”

“So then we should leave at ten,” Will says. He rolls off of Hannibal and sits up “Breakfast?” 

“Something light,” Hannibal agrees. 

Will looks down at them with a puzzled expression. “Why am I on this side of the bed?” 

Hannibal is at a crossroads, wondering if he should worry Will about the sleepwalking, or if he should lie. He decides on the lie. 

“I got up to use the restroom and when I came back you had rolled over onto my side, so I just took yours,” Hannibal answers. 

“Oh. No sleepwalking or anything, then?” 

“No, Will.”

After that they get out of bed slowly. Both of them dress for the day and Will hovers very close the entire time Hannibal cooks them breakfast. 

It’s just scrambled eggs and toast, but Will moans as he takes his first bite. 

“This is great. Thank you,” Will says, a mouthful of food. Normally Hannibal would find something like that to be gross and impolite, but everything Will does makes him think differently than he normally would. 

“Of course, my love.”

Will gives him a little smile and bows his head, looking down at his plate as he finishes his food. 

They wash the plates together, take the dogs outside, opting for a short walk together instead of waiting on the porch, and then get into Hannibal’s Bentley. Hannibal sends Alana a text saying he and Will are going to take Abigail for lunch. Just so she can’t get upset and claim it was without her knowledge. 

Will holds Hannibal’s hand on the center console, one of his feet is tapping somewhat erratically in the footwell, and he keeps fidgeting in his seat. 

“Darling, what has you on edge?” Hannibal asks after twenty minutes. 

“Nothing.”

Hannibal doesn't press any further and let’s Will keep up his movements. If Will wants to talk to him, he will. 

They arrive at Port Haven just before eleven, sign in at the front desk, then go upstairs to Abigail’s room. Not touching, just in case someone they know might be lurking around. 

Will knocks on the door and a very surprised Abigail answers, seeing Will first, then turning and looking at Hannibal. She grins wide and steps out of the way to let them in. 

“We were hoping to take you out for lunch today, Abigail,” Hannibal tells her. 

“Am I allowed to leave? Doctor Bloom was really mad last time you took me without permission.”

“Doctor Bloom has been notified, yes.”

Abigail nods and picks up a coat, then slides on a pair of shoes.

“Freddie Lounds wants to write a book about me,” she says once they’re in the car.

“Don’t let her,” Will says. He’s squeezing Hannibal’s hand hard enough to almost hurt. “I’m serious.”

“I don’t think I will, but it would be good money that I could put towards school or use to buy a car when I get out of Port Haven.”

“I’ll buy you a car. Don't do the book,” Will says. Hannibal turns his head slightly to look at Will, reads his expression and it’s dead serious. 

“I will pay for your schooling if you desire to go to college,” Hannibal supplies. “I agree that the book would be a horrific idea.”

Abigail doesn’t say anything in response to either of their offers, just nods. Hannibal knows the conversation will likely be revisited. 

Instead, she changes the subject. “You two seem fine,” she points out. 

Hannibal gives Will’s hand a squeeze and Will seems to realize just how tight he’s gripping Hannibal because he loosens his hand slightly. 

“Yes. We are just fine,” Hannibal answers. 

“Did Will, uh, tell you about what I told him? About my dad?” Abigail asks. 

“I told him you talked to me, but I figured it’s your story to tell,” Will responds. 

Abigail nods. She then tells Hannibal that she was the lure for all the girls her father killed. Hannibal can tell she’s on the verge of crying in the backseat. When she finishes telling him, Hannibal gives her an understanding smile through the rear view mirror.

“I am glad you have told us, Abigail,” he says. “I am sure this feels like a weight lifted off your shoulders.”

“Not really. I still have to live with it, knowing what I did. I have nightmares about it, and about killing Nicholas Boyle,” Abigail tells them. “I can talk to Doctor Bloom about Nicholas Boyle, but it doesn’t help. I can’t tell her about my dad, I know that.”

“Doctor Bloom suspects. She came to me requesting I find out and relay the information to Jack Crawford,” Will tells her. 

Hannibal sees her tense up in the mirror.

“I’m not telling him anything, Abigail,” Will adds. “We all carry secrets that could get us in trouble. I don’t plan on damning any of us.”

* * *

They have lunch together and keep the conversation light. Will talks about the dogs, Hannibal talks about books he thinks Abigail might like. Abigail tells them how her group sessions have been going, and how badly she wants to get out of Port Haven. 

Back at Will’s house, after dropping Abigail off at the facility, Will turns to look at Hannibal. 

“Are you going home soon?” Will asks, though he hopes Hannibal stays a bit longer. He’s half tempted to ask him to stay the night and leave early in the morning, but he bites his tongue. 

“I can leave anytime you want me to,” Hannibal says. 

_That just won’t do,_ Will thinks. He figures he has the excuse that he’s still worried about sleepwalking and would feel better knowing he has someone to hold him down. Or the fact that he just really wants to spend more time with Hannibal. Will doesn’t think Hannibal would disagree with that reasoning. 

“And if I don’t want you to leave?” Will asks casually. As if it’s a challenge, to see what Hannibal would do. 

“Then I would stay,” Hannibal answers. 

“The night?” 

“If you’d like. I don’t have an appointment until eleven and I do have clothes here that I could leave in,” Hannibal says. “It wouldn’t be an issue.”

Will nods and goes to sit on the couch. “Then I want you to stay the night.”

Hannibal takes off his coat and crosses the room. Will opens his arms and Hannibal goes, sitting on the couch next to Will. Will shakes his head and pulls Hannibal by the hips so has no choice but to move over until he’s straddling Will’s thighs. 

Will looks up at him with a smug smile and Hannibal leans down to kiss him softly. Will’s hands find Hannibal’s ass and squeeze lightly, then roam over his hips, thighs, then back to settle on his ass.

“What’s your goal with having me sit here?” Hannibal asks. 

“Nothing,” Will shrugs. “Maybe I just like you here.”

“Your hands are roaming. One would think you’re trying to seduce me,” Hannibal whispers, leaning down to kiss Will’s lips again. 

“Is it working?”

Very abruptly Hannibal pulls himself out of Will’s lap and settles on the couch, laying with his feet in Will’s lap and his head on the other end. 

“No, it’s not,” Hannibal says, closing his eyes, a clear sign that he wants to take a nap instead. “But maybe it would after dinner.”

“You can go sleep in my bed,” Will reminds him. 

“I like this couch,” Hannibal responds. “Allow me to rest for twenty minutes and then I will entertain you however you please.”

Will can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous he sounds. 

“I’ll bathe the other two dogs, then,” Will says. 

Will does just that, and it takes longer than twenty minutes, and when he comes back downstairs to change, Hannibal is still curled up on the couch. Will wonders if he sleeps at all at night. 

After changing into a dry sweater and jeans, Will sits down on the edge of the couch, right next to Hannibal’s hip. He places a hand on Hannibal’s chest and that’s all it takes for Hannibal to open his eyes, seemingly fully alert. 

“You don’t sleep much, do you?” Will asks. 

“I don’t require much sleep,” Hannibal shrugs. 

“All of your sleep is really light though, isn't it?”

Hannibal shrugs. “It’s what I am used to. With you, I feel as though I can’t sleep too heavily or else you’ll get up and walk out in your sleep.”

“Well I’m not gonna do that when you’re napping on the couch mid afternoon. You don’t have to fight off sleep just to stay alert around me,” Will says. 

“It’s a habit more than anything. When I was a surgeon sometimes I would have to be called in, plus I would work odd hours in the emergency room.”

“That’s not all, though is it? Something happened before that,” Will whispers. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I will. Not today, but I will one day,” Hannibal says. Hannibal opens his arms and says, “Come here.”

Will settles down on the couch on top of him, sets his glasses on the side table, then buries his face in Hannibal’s red sweater. 

“I think I’ll nap, too,” Will says. 

One of Hannibal’s hands rubs his back, the other cradles the back of his head. Will’s content to be here and he knows Hannibal feels the exact same way.

They nap for the better part of the afternoon. Will, in a constant state of exhaustion, appreciates it. Hannibal with no choice but to surrender to Will’s body weight on top of him, seems to tolerate it. 

Eventually the dogs get restless and Will does have to let them out. Then Hannibal decides it’s dinner time after a while of sitting around, so they eat. It’s a lazy Sunday, for sure. They settle back down onto the couch after dinner, drinks in hand, and the TV on low volume while Hannibal reads. 

After the news ends, Will sits up from where he’s laying with his head in Hannibal’s lap and moves to sit atop Hannibal’s thighs. 

“You said after dinner,” Will says, taking Hannibal’s book out of his hand and throwing it aside. He leans down to press kisses along Hannibal’s neck just as Hannibal’s hands come to rest on his hips. 

“I’m not certain it’s a wise idea,” Hannibal whispers in response. 

“Likely not,” Will agrees, nosing at Hannibal’s jaw. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” Hannibal breathes. “But maybe we should, still.”

Will doesn’t want to push it so he climbs out of Hannibal’s lap and sits next to him instead. 

“You’re right,” Will says. He tries to keep any and all disappointment out of his voice, but Hannibal still reaches out a hand for his own.

“It’s not because I don’t want you, Will,” Hannibal says, bringing Will’s hand to his face to kiss his knuckles. “I can’t promise I can control my emotions and I don’t want to overwhelm you while you’re sick. You may not care, but the toll taken on your body the other night isn’t something I wish to revisit.”

“I know,” Will says, resting his head on Hannibal’s shoulder. “We should go to bed soon anyways.”

“Yes, I agree. A bath first to help relax?” Hannibal suggests. 

“Will you join me?”

“I don’t think it would lead to much relaxation if I do. I can sit outside the tub and keep you company if you wish.”

Will nods. 

Upstairs, Hannibal draws the bath, adding stuff from his own shower products. Will doesn’t even know what, just that it smells like Hannibal, and Will knows he’ll also smell like Hannibal. 

As Will undresses, he looks down at Hannibal who is leaning over the tub. “You know,” Will says conversationally. “You’ve got me on a real bath kick. Normally I just take showers.”

“They are great for relaxation. I make it a point to take a bath at least once a week,” Hannibal responds. He stands up and dries his hands on a hand towel, then gestures for Will to get in. 

“You’re always relaxed,” Will says as he steps over the edge of the tub. “You don’t need extra calming techniques.”

“Perhaps I’m relaxed because I do relaxing things,” Hannibal counters. 

“Oh fuck,” Will groans as he lowers himself into the warm water. “I get it. It is nice. Would be nicer if you joined me.”

Hannibal smiles down at him and then sits on the floor, leaning against the tub wall. 

“I thought about carrying you up here last night when you were soaked in sweat but you said no,” Hannibal says after a while. 

“Jesus, you had a full conversation with me while I was asleep.”

“So it would seem. You don’t remember any of it?” 

“No. I did dream I got up and walked around, but thankfully that was just a dream,” Will sighs. 

“I am very thankful you didn’t get up and walk around naked last night,” Hannibal agrees. “Though I believe I would have noticed and found you if you had.”

Will nods and sinks lower into the water, letting the tension in his body ease. His head feels foggy, a throbbing headache, but his body, at least, is relaxing. He’s glad he might find a solution to the head problems soon. 

“Will,” Hannibal says. 

Will opens his eyes, having not even realized they were shut, and looks up at Hannibal.

“Hm?”

“You’re falling asleep.”

“I’m not,” Will mumbles. “My eyes were just shut. Relaxing.”

“Come on, you’ve been in there for a long time now, the water must be going cold,” Hannibal says, offering a hand to pull Will out. 

And Will realizes the water is much colder than it was a few seconds ago, which means he _must_ have fallen asleep, but… that can’t be possible. His eyes were barely shut, he doesn’t remember nodding off, just thinking for a minute. 

“How… How long was I in there?” Will asks hesitantly after he’s out and has a towel around his hips. 

Hannibal looks at his watch. “Nearly an hour.”

“I would’ve sworn it was more like ten minutes. The water was warm and then you were saying my name and suddenly it wasn’t,” Will says, soft and slow, trying to wrap his mind around it. 

“You fell asleep.”

“I wasn’t asleep, Hannibal.”

Hannibal frowns at him. “A loss of time then?”

Will shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe I did fall asleep.”

“What was the last thing you remember?” Hannibal asks, opening the bathroom door and guiding Will down the stairs. 

“We were talking about how I dreamt I was sleepwalking, then I remember thinking how bad my head was throbbing. Then you were saying my name.”

“We conversed for a moment between that. Do you not remember?” Hannibal asks. 

Will shakes his head. 

Hannibal pushes him gently towards the bed and Will drops the towel, climbing in without putting on any clothes. He figures they’ll just come off one way or another in the middle of the night, anyways. 

“It was nothing of importance. I just asked if you wanted to get out yet, you told me you didn’t. Then you mentioned the dogs will have to be let out before bed,” Hannibal explains, unbuttoning all of his clothes. “It’s possible you disassociated, or it could be a symptom of the problem in your brain.”

“Well, let’s hope it clears up, then. Can you take care of the dogs?” 

Hannibal does just that and Will’s asleep before he settles down next to him. 

In the morning, Hannibal makes breakfast while Will takes the dogs out, and they eat together. Hannibal leaves at the same time as Will with a promise to see Will for his appointment the next day, and a kiss goodbye. 

Will arrives at Quantico and immediately heads down to Jack’s office before his first lecture, knocking lightly. 

“Come in,” Jack’s voice calls from inside. 

Will pushes the door open and he’s greeted with a smile, though he can see just how exhausted Jack really is, how sad he is under the smile. 

“Morning, Jack. Do you have a few minutes?”

“Of course. Sit, please,” Jack says, gesturing towards the chair in front of his desk. 

“I heard about your wife,” Will starts. “I’m very sorry to hear.”

“I appreciate that, Will,” Jack says, voice and face sincere. 

“How are you holding up?” Will asks. 

“As good as I can be, all things considered,” Jack answers. “Is this what brought you in today?”

“Not entirely,” Will says with a shake of his head. “I wanted to tell you I’m getting a brain scan tomorrow. Doctor Lecter suggested it after I told him about some symptoms I’ve been having.”

Jack nods. “He told me it was a possibility, just a matter of getting you to a doctor.”

Will gives him a faint smile. “Yeah, I can be stubborn about that. I just figured I’d let you know. I’ve got most of my lectures covered, and I’ll be taking some time off. Amount of depends on just what’s wrong with me.”

Jack nods and gives Will an understanding smile. “Health is important. You take all the time you need and give me a call when you’re ready to come back to the field. Not a moment sooner.”

“Right. While I’m stuck at home, if you ever wanna drop off crime scene photos or ask me for insight, just stop by,” Will tells him. “I’ll be bored.”

“Of course. You have lectures today?”

“Yeah, I,” Will starts, glancing at the watch on his wrist. He hates wearing watches, but they’re oftentimes necessary. “I should get going. Thanks. And if you or Bella need anything, you know where I’ll be.”

“Thanks, Will. And take care of yourself.”

Will nods and gets up from his chair, leaving the office relieved that this went well. Not that he expected Jack to be upset about his time off, just that Jack was much more understanding than Will expected him to be. Everyone’s been a lot more understanding than Will expected them to be. 

After his first lecture, he has some time so he heads down to the lab to see if Jimmy, Beverly, and Brian are around. He finds them looking over a body that has sections of his back skinned off. 

“Are these the wings you told me about?” Will asks, sitting in an empty exam table. 

“Yup,” Jimmy answers. “We think we know who did it, we just have to find him.”

“Did you talk to his family?” 

“Looking into it,” Beverly answers. “This guy showed up last night in an alley. You’ll never guess what else we found.”

“Testicles,” Brian answers. “Assuming they belong to the angel maker.”

“He’s preparing himself to become an angel,” Will says. “He’ll be his own final victim.”

“So what, we should just wait for him to get bored of killing other people and off himself?” Brian asks. 

Will shrugs. “If you don’t find him before he does, that’s when you will find him. If he’s married, ask his wife about any locations special to him. That’s probably where you’ll find his body.”

“You have your appointment tomorrow, don’t you?” Beverly asks, changing the subject. 

“Three o’clock,” Will answers. 

“Is Lecter going with?”

“Yes,” Will says hesitantly, glancing at Jimmy and Brian to see if they think anything of it. They don’t seem to, so Will relaxes a bit. “He knows the doctor and it’ll be good figuring out where to go with my therapy, too. If it’s not encephalitis like he thinks, then it just means I’m crazy which is Lecter’s department.”

“Makes sense. Give one of us a call with whatever news you get,” Beverly says. “Better yet, make a group chat and text us all.” 

“Will do. I gotta get back to my lecture hall,” Will says, jumping from the table to the floor. 

He finishes his last two lectures and walks out to his car. On his way out, someone falls into stride next to him and he turns to see the fiery red mane that belongs to none other than Freddie Lounds next to him. 

“You haven’t been at the latest crime scenes. Did they finally realize you’re a psychopath?” Freddie asks, voice mocking. Will would think about strangling her if they weren’t on FBI grounds.

“Fuck off, Lounds,” Will mutters. 

“Well, that’s not very kind. I must be right.”

“Whatever you want to believe. Now leave me alone,” Will says, walking as fast as his legs can carry him, off towards his car. Freddie doesn’t seem to follow him, knowing when a conversation is over. 

Will gets home, takes care of the dogs, reheats some of the leftover soup Hannibal made on Saturday and eats it alone at his kitchen table. 

In the living room, he realizes Hannibal left the sweater he wore all weekend laying on Will’s bed, folded neatly next to the stuffed dog. Will smiles to himself and immediately starts unbuttoning his own shirt, then pulls the sweater over his head, breathing in the scent. 

The rest of the night is occupied by the TV and the dogs. Will ends up going to sleep early, laying on Hannibal’s side of the bed, breathing in the scent on the pillow he uses. 

In the morning, there’s a text from Hannibal. 

_Meet me at my home anytime between 1:30 and 2:15 today._

Will sends back a thumbs up emoji and goes about his day. He packs any essentials he might need in case of a hospital stay, makes sure there’s enough dog food for the week, for whoever ends up feeding them. He makes sure none of Hannibal’s belongings are out in the open, just in case it’s someone other than Beverly or Hannibal that comes to take care of the dogs. 

At 12:30 he gets in his car and heads off toward Baltimore, just after giving each dog a kiss on the head and a handful of treats. 

* * *

Will arrives at Hannibal’s house just after 1:30 and Hannibal opens the door and immediately pulls him in for a kiss. 

“Would you like something to eat? We have time for lunch,” Hannibal asks, directing Will toward the kitchen. 

“No thanks,” Will says, shaking his head. Hannibal can tell he's nervous, but doesn’t comment on it. 

He gestures towards the armchair in the kitchen and Will sets his bag down next to it, then sits. Hannibal brings him a glass of water and then sits on one of the chair’s arms. 

“Miss Katz agreed to help me bring your car back to Wolf Trap tonight,” Hannibal says. “I would have picked you up, but this last appointment couldn’t be rearranged, so we would not have made it in time.”

“That’s okay,” Will says, taking long sips of his water. Hannibal takes the empty cup from him and sets it in the sink, then places himself back where he was. 

Will’s arms wrap around Hannibal’s waist and pull him off the chair’s arm and into Will’s lap. Will shoves his face into Hannibal’s neck and starts nosing at the skin. 

“Darling,” Hannibal whispers, attempting to sound warm and affectionate. “There’s no need to be nervous.”

“I know, I know,” Will says. He kisses the back of Hannibal’s neck. “But if I can’t do this for a few days, I’m doing it now.”

Hannibal laughs and turns more, so he’s sitting sideways across Will’s thighs. He kisses Will lightly, just a grazing of lips, but Will clearly wants more and pushes them more firmly together. Hannibal obliges, allows Will to deepen the kiss and lick into his mouth. 

Will pulls back, completely breathless, hips grinding up against the back of Hannibal’s leg. He rests his head on Hannibal’s shoulder. 

“How much time do we have?” Will asks. 

Hannibal smirks and checks his watch. “About half an hour.”

“Good. Let’s, uh,” Will starts, still trying to catch his breath. Hannibal gets the message, though and adjusts his position so he can straddle Will’s hips, his knees fitting snug between Will and the sides of the chair. 

“Make it quick?” Hannibal finishes the sentence for him. 

Will nods and swallows, quite loud. He pushes himself up against Hannibal again, and Hannibal grabs him by the hips and pulls him forward in the chair so their clothed cocks can rub together. 

Hannibal pushes against him, his cock getting harder against Will’s, who is already nearly there. He knows they’ll both have to change after this, that it would be better off to just get unclothed beforehand, but Hannibal can’t bring himself to stop. He sets a steady pace, grinding down in Will’s lap. 

“You’re gorgeous, Will,” Hannibal murmurs, leaning down to kiss him. Will lets out a soft moan into Hannibal’s mouth as Hannibal pushes down more firmly. 

Hands on Hannibal’s hips guide his movements, and Will pushes his own hips up to meet with Hannibal’s. 

Hannibal can tell by the noises Will is making, that he’s getting close, so he draws back slightly, earning a protesting sound. He unzips Will’s pants and slides his hand into the waistband of Will’s underwear, gripping his cock firmly. He grinds his own against Will’s thigh as he jerks Will off.

Will comes in his boxers and Hannibal’s hand with a cry. Hannibal keeps stroking him until Will is squirming and pushing his hand away. He looks down, then shifts his thigh so Hannibal can do as he pleases with it, until Hannibal comes in his pants, head buried into the crook of Will’s neck. 

“Feel better?” Hannibal asks. 

“Yes,” Will breathes. “We need to change. That wasn’t my original plan.”

“What was?” 

“Anything other than coming in my pants, honestly,” Will laughs. 

Hannibal kisses him once, then stands. Will follows suit and picks up his bag from the floor and they both go upstairs to clean up and change. Hannibal takes their dirty clothes and throws them in the laundry machine, then checks his watch again. 

“We should go,” he says. “If you need those underwear and jeans, I’ll bring them to the hospital for you tomorrow.”

“I should be good,” Will says. They walk out to the garage and get into Hannibal’s car. 

Will reaches into his bag and pulls something out, holding it out for Hannibal. 

“Here,” Will says, handing Hannibal a key. “It’s for my house, and it’s yours. That way you don’t have to worry about putting the spare back every time.”

Hannibal nods and puts it on his key ring before putting his car key in this ignition. “You’re sure you want me to have this? Usually exchanging house keys in a relationship is a symbol of it being serious.”

“Yes, Hannibal, I want you to have it. It’s more about practicality than anything, in case I need you to feed the dogs or get something from my house. Alana has her own too, just in case.”

“I see.”

“Don’t give me that. It may be about practicality, but it does… it does mean more with you,” Will says quietly. Hannibal reaches across the center console and pulls Will’s hand into his own as he pulls out of the driveway.

“I’ll get you a key to my home as well,” Hannibal murmurs. He’s not sure why he said it, but he knows he means it. It would be completely unwise to give _anyone_ access to his house, but he wants to show Will that he trusts him, and feels the same way. 

“You don’t have to,” Will says. 

“I will,” Hannibal smiles.

Will nods and they stay silent for the majority of the drive. A few blocks away from the hospital, Will speaks. 

“Does this doctor know that we're in a relationship?”

“I told him I was making an appointment on behalf of one of my patients,” Hannibal says. “That’s not to say we need to act that way, it was just easier to set it up that way. Plus I was unsure if you wanted me to out you in that way to a stranger.”

“It would have been fine if you did,” Will nods. “I don’t… want to act like we’re not together.”

“Very well. I should warn you that he’s…” Hannibal searches for the right word. “Not as accepting as some people are. It won’t affect the quality of your healthcare, though. I will see to that.”

“Right,” Will says, voice hesitant. “He’s not going to think differently of you? Would you rather not out _yourself?”_

“I can assure you that it makes no difference how he thinks of me. I do not particularly like this man nor do I care about his opinions, but he’s a good doctor,” Hannibal says, pulling into a parking spot. They still have a few minutes, so he turns in his seat after shutting off the car and looks at Will and gives his hand a squeeze. “I want you to be comfortable, darling. I know you’re nervous and that you tend to seek contact from me when you are. I don’t want you to forgo holding onto me if you need to, just because of how he may perceive me.”

“Okay, okay. Thank you,” Will says. 

“Of course, my love. You can leave your bag here and I’ll come back and get it if you’re admitted,” Hannibal tells him, reaching out to cup one of Will’s warm cheeks. “For now, we should go if we want to make it on time.” 

Inside, Will sits down in the waiting room while Hannibal goes to the desk to check in. The receptionist hands him a clipboard which he brings back to Will to fill out.

“I would like to pay your bills,” Hannibal says as he sits down.

“Absolutely not,” Will says, filling out his insurance information. 

Hannibal sets a hand on Will’s thigh. “Please.”

Will sighs and hands Hannibal the page for billing information without another word and Hannibal smiles to himself as he fills it out. Hannibal returns the paperwork and they wait to be called in.

A nurse calls them back, takes Will’s vitals and confirms a fever, which Hannibal already knew, and has known. She leaves after that and Will sits next to Hannibal, squeezing his hand tight. 

The door opens and Doctor Sutcliffe walks in, and to Hannibal’s dismay, Will immediately lets go of his hand and puts his own into his lap.

“Hannibal! Good to see you again,” Sutcliffe exclaims. He turns to Will and looks down at his clipboard. “And you must be Will Graham. Doctor Lecter says you’ve been having symptoms that might suggest a neurological condition.”

“He thinks it’s encephalitis,” Will says. 

“And what makes you think this, Doctor?” Sutcliffe asks, turning to look at Hannibal as he sits down. 

“I can smell it,” Hannibal answers simply. 

“Do you make it a habit to smell your patients?” Sutcliffe asks, amusement evident in his tone.

“Hannibal’s not actually my therapist,” Will says. “He did my psych eval for my work with the FBI, but the sessions we have are more just conversations between… colleagues.”

“I see,” Sutcliffe says. “Either way, let’s talk about your symptoms.”

“Right, uh,” Will starts. “Headaches, nightmares, the fever. Body aches, sleepwalking, loss of coordination one night, then I woke up the next morning feeling worse than I have in a long time.”

Hannibal knows the loss of coordination was because he drugged him, and the next morning were side effects, but he keeps his mouth shut.

“Has the loss of coordination persisted at all?” Sutcliffe asks, typing everything into Will’s report.

“Somewhat? Not as bad as that first time, though. That was…” Will trails off and looks at Hannibal, and asks quietly, “How long ago was that? The… The next morning Jack called about the Ripper and Beverly showed up.”

“Just over two weeks ago,” Hannibal answers. 

“Memory loss?” Sutcliffe asks, seemingly oblivious to their conversation implying Hannibal spent the night when that happened. His eyes stay on the screen in front of him, not looking at either man in the room.

Will shrugs and looks to Hannibal, eyes asking for help, hand reaching out to grip one of Hannibal’s.

“Will may have lost some time on Sunday night,” Hannibal answers. “He didn’t remember a short conversation we had.”

“How much time?”

“Perhaps forty minutes?” Hannibal answers. “I had thought he fell asleep, but Will was certain he hadn’t.”

“I was in the bath. One second the water was warm, the next it was freezing and Hannibal was saying my name,” Will explains.

At that, Doctor Sutcliffe turns to look at them with a questioning look on his face. The second his eyes meet their conjoined hands sitting on Hannibal’s knee, understanding floods his features.

“So then you’re… Okay,” he says and turns back to look at the screen. His voice sounds like he’s trying to hide disgust for the sake of professionalism, but Hannibal catches it. “How long have you been having symptoms then?”

“Couple of months? That’s when the fever started, at least. I’ve had headaches and nightmares for a lot longer, but,” Will waves his hand vaguely. “Comes with the job.”

“Right,” Sutcliffe says with a nod. “Well, let's get you a brain scan, then.”

Sutcliffe gets Will a hospital gown and they walk towards the room with the MRI machine. A technician is waiting at the door to take Will inside and Hannibal leans in to give Will a quick kiss.

“I love you,” Hannibal murmurs, hoping to ease some of Will’s nerves about the whole day. 

As expected, Will doesn’t respond, just kisses Hannibal on the cheek and goes into the room. 

When it’s just Hannibal and Sutcliffe alone in the hall, Sutcliffe finally speaks what’s on his mind.

“So what is this? You guys have some sort of arrangement going on?”

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” Hannibal answers. 

“He’s young, a good looking guy. You’re, what, fifty?”

“I’m forty-two,” Hannibal answers. 

“Anyways, what is it? Is he with you for your money, a sugar daddy type thing? Or does he sleep with you in exchange for a passed psychological evaluation?” 

“Neither,” Hannibal answers, trying to push down his annoyance. He’d love to have Sutcliffe for dinner after these remarks, that’s for certain. “Will and I are in a committed relationship that started quite some time after I performed his psychological evaluation, and he has no need for my money. I would prefer you didn’t make assumptions about someone you have just met.”

“Well, something’s going on if you told him you love him and he didn’t say it back,” Sutcliffe laughs. 

“He doesn’t need to say it.”

“Right. Well, I guess I should’ve known you were batting for the same team.”

Hannibal doesn’t say anything in response, just goes over recipes in his head that he could make with Sutcliffe’s tongue. Perhaps a few other parts, as well. 

After Will’s scan, Sutcliffe brings them both into his office to talk about the results. 

“So it appears you do have Anti-NMDA receptor encephalitis. You’re lucky you didn’t wait much longer to come in,” Sutcliffe starts explaining. 

* * *

Will doesn’t pay much attention to the course of treatment Sutcliffe explains. Most of the terms just go over his head, and he knows Hannibal’s listening well enough for the both of them. After Sutcliffe finishes talking, he’s being admitted into a hospital room, put in a gown and bed, and being stuck with different needles and being asked countless questions.

Hannibal stays by his side and holds his hand whenever possible. When they’re finally left alone, Hannibal kisses him softly on the lips.

“Sutcliffe didn’t seem too bothered by us,” Will says quietly. He knows that isn’t true at all, could read the man like a book, but he wants to see if Hannibal corrects him.

“On the contrary, he thinks you’re with me for my money, and a fraudulent psychological evaluation,” Hannibal says, sitting back in his chair next to Will’s bed. 

“Both are true, how did he know?” Will says, teasing Hannibal. He lifts Hannibal’s hand to kiss his knuckles.

“He also thought I was fifty,” Hannibal says with a fake sniffle. 

“How old are you actually? I guess I’ve never even asked,” Will says, realizing that Hannibal’s age has really never come up. He knows the man is older, but never really stopped to think how much.

“I’m forty-two,” Hannibal says.

“Really? Oh,” Will says.

“You thought I was older?”

“You do have a bit of grey hair,” Will shrugs.

“You would too if you had to deal with the type of people I deal with,” Hannibal says with a smile. “Especially if one of those people were yourself.”

“Uh huh, baby, I deal with myself every day, and I’m just fine.”

“Well,” Hannibal says. “I actually would not mind having Sutcliffe for dinner one of these days.”

“That’s quite the turnaround and subject change,” Will points out. “First he’s homophobic, calls you old, and now you want to have him for…” Realization of Hannibal’s wording sets in. “Oh fuck. Hannibal, no.”

“It doesn’t seem as though you’re in a position to stop me,” Hannibal whispers. 

“Hannibal,” Will says in a warning tone. “Jesus, at least wait a few months.”

“I intend to, darling. I’m not stupid.”

“Didn’t say you were, I just think it’s a bad idea,” Will says. “What else did he say?”

“Not much else. He pointed out that I didn’t get a response when I said I love you, and I told him I don’t need one, then he said, ‘should have known you bat for the same team,’ which, it’s not as though I have ever kept it a secret,” Hannibal shrugs. “Gender has never been a factor in who I have been involved with in the past.”

“Right, well. He seems like a total ass. I don’t have to deal with him anymore, do I?” Will asks.

“He’ll likely stop in a few times in the next few days just to see how you’re doing, then you’ll likely have to come back for a second scan a bit later on,” Hannibal says. He leans forward and whispers “After you’re better, you will not see him again until the police find his body.”

“You cannot say shit like that,” Will mumbles. 

“Perhaps you’re right,” Hannibal smiles. “Have you let anyone know you’ve been admitted?”

Will sighs. “Not yet. You said you talked to Beverly about my car? When did you even get her number?” 

“I got it from Jack Crawford some time ago,” Hannibal says. “But yes, I believe we agreed to meet at my house around seven.” 

Will nods and looks around the room for his phone. Hannibal pulls it out of his pocket and Will only vaguely remembers handing it to him. 

He makes a group message with Jimmy, Jack, Brian and Beverly and sends off a message. 

_in the hospital for two nights. anti nmda receptor encephalitis. bed rest for the foreseeable future._

A message from Jimmy comes back almost immediately. 

_Sweet William, I am happy to hear you’re being treated for your brain fire. I will be by with Zeller, balloons, and a teddy bear after work._

Will laughs and sends back a simple ‘thanks,’ along with his room number. 

Jack sends a message saying he’ll stop by sometime tomorrow. Beverly responds that she’ll feed the dogs tonight. 

Will sets his phone down on the table next to his bed and looks at Hannibal, who watches him so fondly. 

“Beverlys going to feed the dogs. Jack said he’ll be by tomorrow and Jimmy said he’ll be by with Brian after work.”

“Did you tell Alana? Maybe she will bring Abigail to see you,” Hannibal suggests. 

So Will sends a similar message that he sent the group, along with his room number and an invitation to visit with Abigail at any time. Alana sends a message saying that she will definitely bring Abigail by and to let her know if the dogs need to be taken care of. 

Will is grateful for all the people in his life, so willing to help him. He really thought he’d be met with some resistance about taking so much time off, but no one has said a word about it and he supposes that should have been expected instead. 

“When do you have to leave?” Will asks. 

“Maybe in an hour and a half,” Hannibal says. “I can come back for a bit later, seeing as I still have to bring your bag in from the car.”

“Are there specific visiting hours?”

Hannibal shrugs. “I’m known here. I could sleep on the couch over there and no one would care.”

“Don’t sleep here,” Will says. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“But would you like me to?” Hannibal asks.

Will hates to admit it, but he nods. 

The idea of being alone in the hospital chills him to the bone. He remembers back when he got stabbed, how much pain he was in, and how alone he was, dealing with those nightmares, reliving the stabbing every time he closed his eyes. He remembers watching his dad die in a hospital bed, with nothing to do, but watch him go. The time when Abigail was in a coma, not long ago and he felt so hopeless, unable to ensure she’d ever wake up. Or when he had to shoot Eldon Stammets as he tried to take Abigail away. He hates hospitals.

“Then I will,” Hannibal says, giving Will’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Is there anything you want me to get from your house?”

“Something to read, maybe? I trust your judgement of my books,” Will says with a quiet laugh. 

“Shall I bring my tablet, so you can play Candy Crush?” Hannibal asks.

“You know what Candy Crush is? You don’t seem like the type to play mobile games,” Will laughs. “But yes, if you want to bring it, then sure.”

“Very well. You can play the level I’ve been stuck on for days,” Hannibal says. 

It’s so simple, and so dumb, but Will loves him for that. He can’t say it though, not yet. He doesn’t know why, he just can’t bring himself to say it while those warm brown eyes are watching him. Instead he just squeezes Hannibal’s hand and gives him a smile. 

“Thank you,” Will says. “For everything. You’ve been… really helpful and really good to me.”

“It’s what you deserve, sweetheart,” Hannibal says. 

“Sweetheart, really?” Will can’t help but scoff. He knows Hannibal’s said it before, but he thought it was a one time thing at the time.

“Is that one a problem?” Hannibal asks, an eyebrow raised. 

“I mean. I guess not, it’s just… I don’t know. I’m not a sweetheart,” Will says. 

“I disagree,” Hannibal says. He doesn’t elaborate any further and Will supposes that’s the end of the conversation. 

“Oh!” Will exclaims, remembering something. “Did I tell you Freddie Lounds showed up at Quantico yesterday? I guess not, we haven't talked since Sunday, but she was waiting for me in the parking lot while I walked to my car.”

“What did she have to say?”

“She said she has noticed I haven’t been at scenes and asked if it’s because they finally realized I’m a psycho,” Will says. “I told her to fuck off.”

“That’s not very polite,” Hannibal says.

“She said the same thing and said that means she must be right,” Will mumbles. “I told her to believe whatever she wants. I’m tired of her shit. Maybe you should have her for dinner.”

“Not going to happen.”

“No? Not even for me?” Will asks, pretending to pout.

“No,” Hannibal whispers.

“Fine. It was worth a shot, though,” Will shrugs. 

Hannibal stands up from his chair and kisses him then, just once, and sits down.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?” Will asks.

“I am just very fond of you,” Hannibal says. He looks down at his watch. “I better go. I’ll come back after I get your things. Did you want your laptop?”

“Sure,” Will nods. “I’ll see you later.”

Hannibal kisses him again before leaving and then Will is alone besides the nurses that come in every once in a while to check that things are going smoothly. He lets himself doze off for the time being, finally realizing just how exhausted he is. 

There’s a knock on his door sometime later and Will opens his eyes to see Jimmy and Brian standing in the doorway, a large teddy bear in Brian’s arms, as promised. Instead of balloons, Jimmy’s holding a bouquet of flowers. 

“Hey guys,” Will says with a smile. 

“Sorry, the balloon store was too far out of our way,” Jimmy says, setting the flowers down on a table. Brian sets the teddy bear in the chair Hannibal had previously occupied. 

“You already have a visitor?” Brian asks, looking at the chair’s proximity to the bed.

“Yeah, Doctor Lecter sat with me for a while,” Will has, truthfully. “Thanks for coming, guys.”

“No problem, Will,” Jimmy says. 

They sit and talk for a while before the two men stand to leave. About an hour later, Hannibal and Beverly both walk in.

Hannibal eyes the teddy bear in his spot and Will laughs. “Just move it and sit down.”

So Hannibal sets it on the couch a few feet away and sits in his chair. “How are you?” Hannibal asks.

“Good. Jimmy and Brian stopped by. I slept for a bit. How are the dogs?”

“They already miss you. Buster peed on my shoe.”

“He was excited to see you,” Will laughs. “Is your shoe okay?”

“No. I went home and changed them.”

Will turns to look at Beverly. “Thanks for bringing my car home.”

“It was no problem. Especially considering I got to see Buster pee on Lecter’s shoe,” she smiles. 

Will laughs then turns back to Hannibal. “Did you bring my stuff?” 

“I did,” Hannibal says. He holds up the bag Will packed earlier, then another. 

“Thank you, baby,” Will says. 

“I’ve probably said it already, but I’m really glad you guys are back together,” Beverly says. “Where can I find someone as perfect as Doctor Lecter?”

“I found him because Jack wasn’t sure if I was stable enough,” Will shrugs. “You could try that route? See if Jack assigns a shrink to you?”

Hannibal glares at him and Will returns the look with a big smile. 

“Alana Bloom is kind of like Hannibal,” Will realizes after a moment. “Hannibal, do you know if she likes women?”

“She has dated both men and women in the past, yes,” Hannibal answers. 

“Bev, maybe you should see if Alana wants to go out for drinks?” Will suggests. 

“Ha! Yeah right,” Beverly says, shaking her head. “Dr Bloom doesn’t even know who I am.”

“I’m having dinner with her tomorrow, perhaps I could see if she’s looking to date anyone,” Hannibal says.

“You’re having dinner with her tomorrow?” Will asks. He didn’t know that.

“Yes, but I’ll be here both before and after, my love,” Hannibal says, tone reassuring, but the words are not what Will is really looking for.

“I can’t control who you’re friends with. I know that. But I still don’t like you having dinner alone with her,” Will says quietly.

“There’s nothing to worry about, and if she were to ever make a move, I would decline and tell you right away,” Hannibal says. It eases Will’s mind a bit, but he still doesn’t like the idea that Alana gets to get Hannibal to herself long enough for her to even have a chance to make a move.

“Hey, Lecter, you mind if I talk to Will alone for a second?” Beverly asks.

“Of course. I’ll go talk to an old friend for a minute,” Hannibal says, standing to leave the room.

Beverly immediately sits down in Hannibal’s chair.

“He called you his love,” Beverly says.

“He told me he loves me on Friday night,” Will says, looking at his fingernails. 

“And you said it back?”

“No. I didn’t,” Will says, somewhat embarrassed. “I mean. I did. When he was asleep.”

“If you weren’t in a hospital bed I would punch you. Are you stupid, or something?”

“Maybe,” Will sighs. “I can’t do it. Not yet.”

“What are you waiting for?”

Will shrugs. “I need to know I’m sure about it. And sometimes the emotions from him are too overwhelming for me that if I tell him, I need to be prepared for that reaction.”

“Tell me the story. When did he say it, what happened when you didn’t say it back?” Beverly asks, her curiosity and concern genuine. 

“We were having sex,” Will starts slowly. He figures Beverly is his best friend, he can tell her about this stuff. She just nods, permission to go on. “His emotions were too strong. I may have started crying, so he asked me what was wrong, so we pulled apart. I asked him if he loved me, and he said he does. I told him I didn’t know if I love him back yet and he said that was fine. And it actually was fine, too. That’s the worst part, I really don’t deserve him, but he just… he does so much for me.”

“First off, you do deserve him, and he’s really good for you, Will. You need to let yourself enjoy good things sometimes,” Beverly says. “He’s really understanding, isn’t he?”

Will nods. “Too understanding sometimes.”

“That’s good, though isn’t it? You’ve met someone that gets you, and everything that comes with knowing you.”

“Yeah,” Will agrees. “It’s really nice that he doesn’t see me as a freak, you know? People normally realise there’s something wrong with me really early on, but he’s never made me feel like what’s wrong with me is actually _wrong.”_

“Because there’s nothing wrong about you, just different. He gets that,” Beverly says with a smile. “Not everyone’s out to get you.”

“I know, I know,” Will says, waving his hand.

“Real quick, before he comes back. What’s up with him and Doctor Bloom?”

“The way she looks at him,” Will says, shaking his head. “Part of the reason we were split for those two weeks is because I got drunk and found out he was sharing a hotel room with Alana and accused him of fucking her.”

“Of course,” Beverly laughs. “You don’t see the way he looks at you if you think he’d ever cheat on you.”

“I get that in theory, but I can convince myself of just about anything. And Hannibal not wanting me was one of those things I convinced myself of.”

“It happens to the best of us,” Beverly says. 

There’s a light knock on the door and Will looks up to see Hannibal standing there.

“May I come back yet or should I check back in ten minutes?” Hannibal asks them.

Will and Beverly look at each other, then Beverly stands. 

“I should get home,” Beverly says.

“Thanks again for helping with the dogs and my car,” Will says again. 

“And I’ll let the dogs out again in the morning on my way to Quantico,” Beverly says, heading toward the door. 

Will waves her away with another thanks, and Hannibal takes his spot again at Will’s side. Hannibal picks up Will’s hand and holds it in his own on the edge of the bed. Will falls asleep with Hannibal at his side, and every time he wakes to nurses checking on him, or to a nightmare, Hannibal is still sitting there. Around three in the morning, Will wakes and Hannibal is sleeping sitting up, hand still resting over Will’s own.

“Hannibal,” Will says, squeezing his hand.

“Hm?”

“Go lay down,” Will tells him.

Hannibal opens his eyes and smiles. He lifts his watch, frowns slightly, then stretches his neck. 

“Did I fall asleep?” Hannibal asks, voice rough from sleep. 

Will laughs. “Yeah, baby. You did. Go lay on the couch.”

“Or I could lay next to you if you move over a bit,” Hannibal suggests, eyeing the space next to Will. 

Will sighs and scoots over, leaving as much space as possible. “Okay but you’ll have to move if a nurse comes in.”

“Yes, Will, I know how hospitals work.” Hannibal stands and climbs into the bed, careful not to bump and of the needles sticking into Will’s arms. He curls up on his side next to Will, pressed close in the small hospital bed. Will gets his arm around Hannibal’s shoulders and Hannibal sets his hand on Will’s stomach. “By the way, I have no patients for the next three days.”

“Why?”

“I want to be with you when I can be,” Hannibal answers.

“I suspect it’s too late to argue with you on that.”

“It is. Go back to sleep.”

So Will closes his eyes, Hannibal pressed very close to him. Hannibal’s steady heart beat and his firm hand has a calming and grounding effect on him, and he places his own hand over Hannibal’s on his stomach. Will really does think he loves him, but he still can’t say it. Not tonight. He lets himself fall asleep again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment and kudos, please! Comments are always, always appreciated.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter compared to the others but it’s a more fun one. Only sort of proof read (I skimmed) so there might be mistakes. Hopefully I’ll get around to fixing them, but I wanted to put this up.

It’s not very comfortable, but Hannibal stays curled up next to Will until morning, drifting in and out of sleep every time Will moves. He gets up early, goes home to shower and change, then starts making soup for Will. 

He gets a message from Will asking where he went, so he replies, telling him. Then he takes the meat for his dinner with Alana out of the freezer to thaw for the day. 

When he finally walks back into the hospital, it’s just after eleven, he’s carrying soup and Will’s washed clothes from the day before. There’s voices inside Will’s room and Hannibal pokes his head around the door frame to see Jack Crawford sitting next to Will’s bed. 

Will glances over at him, a smile on his face, leftover from something Jack was saying, that only grows wider when his eyes meet Hannibal’s.

“Doctor Lecter, come in,” Will says, waving him in. 

“Good morning, Doctor Lecter,” Jack says. 

Hannibal nods at them both, then holds up both bags and says, “I brought you soup and those clothes you asked me to bring.”

“Ah, thank you,” Will says. 

Hannibal goes and sets everything down on a table while Jack and Will keep talking. If Jack suspects Hannibal is out of place here, he doesn’t mention it and eventually says he has to get back to Quantico. 

“I can go let the dogs out if you need me to,” Jack offers, but Will shakes his head. 

“Beverly got them this morning and Alana said she’ll do it this evening,” Will tells him. 

“Alright, take care,” Jack says. “Doctor Lecter, mind walking out with me?”

Hannibal nods and follows Jack out of the room. 

“Thank you for all you do for Will,” Jack says once they’re around the corner. 

“Of course. Will is my friend,” Hannibal says. “I couldn’t see him suffer the way he has been.”

“There is something else, besides the encephalitis that I am slightly worried about,” Jack says quietly. “Will was having a hard time at our Ripper scenes and I was wondering if he’s talked to you about that. He said it was due to a breakup, and I know we talked briefly on Friday, but I just want to make sure he’s doing okay with that.”

“He mentioned it,” Hannibal confirms. “He didn’t say much, as he thought his relationship was the least of his issues. He was also worried about his physical illness. We haven’t talked much about it, but I do believe him and his partner have since reconciled.”

“He did seem a lot happier today and on Monday than I have seen him in quite some time, but I didn’t feel it was my place to ask,” Jack says. 

“No, perhaps it’s not,” Hannibal agrees. They come to the front doors of the hospital and Hannibal stops. “Will and I will not be having sessions for some time, and seeing as he is not doing field work for the time being, I will not have any reports for you.”

“Right, right,” Jack nods. “I better go. Good seeing you.”

“I would love to have you over for dinner soon. Call me with a night that works,” Hannibal says, shaking Jack’s hand. 

“Sure,” Jack says and turns to go, leaving Hannibal relieved that he can go be alone with Will for the afternoon. 

When Hannibal returns to Will’s room, Will is getting out of his bed and crossing the room to the table Hannibal set the soup on. He pushes his IV stand across the floor, walks on his bare feet. 

Hannibal watches him for the doorway, then goes to one of the bags he brought the night before. He takes out a pair of slippers and sets them on the floor in front of Will. 

“You think of everything, don’t you?” Will asks, sliding the slippers onto his feet and shuffling across the floor to sit at the table. 

Hannibal gives him a smile and sits down across from him. He takes the containers of soup out of the insulated bag and sets one in front of Will. 

“You made me chicken soup again?” Will asks when he opens it. 

Hannibal takes a pause. Will reduced a more complex soup down to just being chicken soup, but Hannibal pretends he doesn’t care. “Yes.”

“Thank you,” Will says and begins to eat. Hannibal does the same. 

Will finishes his soup and slides the empty container back towards Hannibal.

“Sutcliffe came by while you were gone this morning,” Will says after he’s back in bed. “He thinks everything’s going good with my treatment and I should be able to go home tomorrow.”

“As he already said yesterday,” Hannibal reminds him, sitting down in the chair next to Will’s bed again. “What else did he say?”

Will sighs. “He didn’t really say much, but he sounded like he wanted to be anywhere but in this room.”

“He is likely just envious that he actually _is_ fifty and has not yet found a younger man to use him for his money,” Hannibal says. 

“Oh, right. How could I have forgotten?” Will asks sarcastically. More sincerely, now, he says, “You know I don’t give a shit about your money, right?”

“I know, Will.” 

“Good. What did Jack want to talk to you about?”

“He’s worried you’re going to break,” Hannibal answers. Jack didn’t say it, but that is what it sounded like he meant. Hannibal smiles slightly, just the corners of his mouth tilting minutely. “He asked if you’ve been talking to me about the breakup you were going through.”

“Jesus, what did you tell him?”

“I said you and your partner have reconciled but your physical health and those symptoms were my top priority, so we haven’t talked about it,” Hannibal says. “That said, we are in a hospital room, not your home. Would you allow me to be your therapist for a few minutes, so we can talk about the scenes you’ve been going to?”

Will sighs. “The Ripper scenes upset me because he was using flower symbolism to send a message to what we presumed to be a romantic partner. Things were good between them for the first one, then the second two it was clear something shifted, which happened around the same time we weren’t talking.”

Hanninal knows that if he gives anything away in his face or in his words, Will is going to make that connection and he might cause a scene right here in the hospital room. He reaches out and squeezes Will’s hand, then brings it to his lips to press a light kiss to his knuckles.

“I just,” Will shrugs before continuing. “Had to cry in my car at one of the scenes. Jack was a bit worried. We’re past it. As long as we don’t stop talking for two weeks again, then I will not be crying at crime scenes anymore.”

“I do not intend on that happening again,” Hannibal agrees. 

“Anyways, no more crime scene talk,” Will says quickly. “How did you sleep last night?”

“You were quite restless,” Hannibal says. “And this bed is not made for two.”

“So you slept like shit, then,” Will laughs.

“I didn’t say that,” Hannibal counters, light hearted. “I will gladly do it again tonight. You don’t like being here alone, I assume.”

“No. I hate hospitals.”

“Associated with bad memories?”

Will nods, then tells him about how alone he felt after his stabbing, about his father, about watching over Abigail. Hannibal stands from his seat, pushes Will’s hair away from his face and kisses his forehead. 

“Besides my dinner with Alana tonight, I’ll be right here.”

“You could always cancel on Alana,” Will says.

“It would be unbearably rude, but I will try to make it quick.”

Will’s phone chimes on the table and he picks it up. “Speak of the devil. Alana’s coming by. She’s picking up Abigail now.”

“Well, then I suppose I better slide my chair away from your bed and let go of your hand,” Hannibal says, doing just that.

“We have a bit of time,” Will protests, but he doesn’t reach out to pull Hannibal back to him, so Hannibal stays where he is. 

“Alana has a tendency to, ah, say she’s fifteen minutes away when she’s actually pulling up,” Hannibal explains. As if right on cue, Alana walks into the room with Abigail trailing her. 

“Oh, Hannibal! I wasn’t aware you were here,” Alana says with a smile. She looks over to Will and keeps smiling. “How are you, Will?”

“Can’t complain,” Will answers. Abigail’s eyes go between Hannibal and Will, a question in her eyes. 

Hannibal stands and says, “I’m going to take Abigail to get a snack from the vending machine, so you two can talk.”

Outside of Will’s room, Abigail looks up at Hannibal. 

“Don’t you think people are going to catch on if you’re always here?” Abigail asks. 

“I’m not always here,” Hannibal says. “I went home this morning and I am having dinner with Dr Bloom tonight.”

“How does Will feel about dinner with Dr Bloom?” 

They stop at the vending machine and Hannibal pulls out his wallet, handing a few dollars to Abigail. She punches in her selection while Hannibal pretends to think about his answer. 

“He didn’t seem happy,” Hannibal says finally. 

“Dr Bloom flirts with both of you guys if you haven’t noticed,” Abigail mutters. 

“I have noticed,” Hannibal says. 

“Well, as long as you know that,” Abigail shrugs. 

The walk back towards Will’s room in silence, Abigail with a soda and candy. 

Hannibal pretends not to be bothered by Alana holding one of Will’s hands while she sits in Hannibal’s chair. 

“Well, I suppose I should go,” Hannibal says. “Alana, would you mind if we moved our dinner to 5 instead of 6? I have quite a bit of work to do tonight.”

“Oh, sure. That’s fine with me, Hannibal. I’ll see you at five, then,” Alana says. 

“Thank you for lunch, Doctor Lecter,” Will says with a smile. 

Hannibal wants to kiss him goodbye, but instead just nods and picks up his jacket, leaving Alana and Abigail with Will. 

He has several hours to spare between now and five so he makes the drive to Wolf Trap. He knows the dogs are lonely and that only being let out and fed in the morning and evening isn’t ideal for them. 

They all jump up when they see him, then run out into the yard while he goes inside to use the restroom. He looks around the house and decides to start cleaning up some of the things Will has laying around. He puts a load of laundry in the washing machine, then brings the dogs back in and feeds them. 

He decides he can spare enough time until the washing machine is done, so he sits on the floor with the dogs and pets them all. He can’t believe what he’s become after being with Will for such a short amount of time. 

Any other person would never get the same treatment Hannibal gives Will. He would never sit on the floor with someone else’s seven dogs at once, never sleep in a hospital bed curled up next to someone else, nor would he do their laundry without being asked. 

As he sits on the floor, his phone starts ringing in his pocket and he smiles. 

“Hello, Will,” Hannibal answers. 

At the sound of his name, Buster barks and Hannibal sets a hand on his head, scratches his ears. 

“Are you at my house?” Will asks. 

“Yes, I figured the dogs would like some company,” Hannibal answers. “I know I left the hospital abruptly, but I felt as though the room was overcrowded.”

“You didn’t like that Alana was sitting in your chair,” Will corrects him. “How are the dogs?”

“They’re well. Winston misses you a lot,” Hannibal says, looking over at the dog laying in Will’s bed. 

“Well, I’ll be home tomorrow. You’re coming back tonight, right?”

“Of course, my love. The second Alana leaves my house tonight I will as well,” Hannibal says. 

He pushes himself off the floor and goes into the laundry room. 

“I washed your clothes that were in the laundry basket,” Hannibal says, opening the washing machine with one hand. He holds his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he pulls them out and puts them in the dryer. 

“Oh you didn’t have to do that,” Will says. “But thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

They talk for a few more minutes before Hannibal decides he’s pushing it for time. He hangs up and goes home to Baltimore. 

He arrives at his house close to four and immediately changes out of his dog hair covered suit into something more comfortable. A long sleeve shirt and slacks. It’s casual for him, but he has no one to impress tonight. 

When Alana shows up, she’s right on time and Hannibal is just pulling their meal from the oven. Alana sits down in the dining room while Hannibal starts plating their food. 

He carries their plates in and finally has a second to take in Alana’s appearance. Her makeup clearly had thought put into it; deep red lips, and a dark smokey eye shadow. Her dress is nicer than she usually wears to dinner at his house, and her hair is styled. Hannibal inwardly curses, hoping she’s not dressed up for him in some way. 

As dinner goes on, it grows more and more apparent that she’s trying to get something from him. Her smiles, her subtle touches across the table, her compliments. Hannibal knows.

It doesn’t help at all that he spent months encouraging flirtatious behavior from her by actively flirting back, dressing nicely for her, buying her small gifts. He had thought it would make it easier to manipulate her later on if needed, but it seems his plan backfired on him. 

He doesn’t offer more wine when she finishes the small glass he originally poured her, he doesn’t take more himself, either. He needs to be sober if he’s going to make it back to Will in one piece tonight. 

Still, he doesn’t want to seem like anything is too out of the ordinary, so like always, they take their dessert into Hannibal’s sitting room. She sits very near him on the couch, only an inch or two between them. 

Hannibal finally sets his bowl down on the coffee table in front of them and Alana does as well, though hers is only half finished. 

“Hannibal,” Alana whispers, and he turns to look at her, which he knew before he did that he should not, and he really shouldn’t have. 

Alana lifts a hand to his face and before he can react, she’s leaning in. 

“Oh,” Hannibal says before her lips can meet his, and he turns his head away. “Sorry, Alana.” 

“What?” Alana asks. “Oh I must have read this wrong, then.”

Hannibal stands and picks up both of their bowls, but he doesn’t move toward the kitchen yet. 

“I started seeing someone recently,” Hannibal says as a way of explanation. “I do not believe you read anything wrong, just kept reading when I was no longer giving you something to read into.”

“I see,” Alana says quietly. “So… so you _were_ flirting with me before, then?”

“I believe I stopped a month ago,” Hannibal answers. 

“Oh. Okay. I should, um,” Alana stands. “I should go. I’m sorry.” 

Hannibal nods and then leaves the room to take the bowls to the sink. Alana is already gone by the time he returns to the sitting room. He waits ten minutes before getting in his car and going back to Will. 

* * *

“Hey, baby,” Will smiles when he sees Hannibal come in the door. The look on his face is one which he sees on his dogs all the time. “Oh, no. What did you do?” 

Hannibal’s eyes go wide, likely because he doesn’t understand how Will knew. Will is getting better at picking up on his facial tells. To anyone else, he would look as he always does, but Will can see some sort of guilt lying under the surface. No, not guilt… confusion, maybe. 

_“I_ did not do anything,” Hannibal says. He takes off his coat and shoes and Will scoots over in the bed, making space for Hannibal to crawl in next to him and curl around his body. “Alana tried to kiss me.”

With that, Will feels a type of rage he hasn’t felt in a long time, if ever. No, not rage. Will feels possessive and jealous. He also wants to kill Alana. Instead he makes a growling noise, completely involuntary, and wraps his arms around Hannibal. Tight. 

“Did she, now?” Will asks through gritted teeth. 

Hannibal rubs his face on Will’s chest and finds one of Will’s hands with one of his own. 

“I rejected her, of course,” Hannibal whispers. “Though, I am afraid I encouraged this, as I did play a game with her for some time. It stopped the day I asked you out, but she didn’t seem to realize.”

“What did you say to her tonight?”

“That I am seeing someone and that I haven’t made an attempt to flirt with her in a month,” Hannibal answers. 

“It’s a good thing I am in a hospital bed right now, or I would go give her a piece of my mind,” Will says. He wants to kill her, he doesn’t say. “You’re mine, Hannibal.”

“Yours and only yours,” Hannibal agrees. He kisses Will’s chest. 

“Good. Thank you for telling me, by the way.” 

“You immediately knew something had happened,” Hannibal whispers. 

“You looked at me like the dogs do after they piss on the floor,” Will laughs. He loosens his arm around Hannibal and brings a hand to his chin to turn his head up. “You didn’t get to kiss me goodbye today.”

Hannibal smiles and sits up carefully, then leans down to kiss Will lightly. 

There’s footsteps in the doorway. 

“Sir, I’m sorry but visiting hours are over, and the patient needs to get some rest,” a nurse says. 

Hannibal looks up, away from Will, just as Will also turns his head to see who is interrupting them. 

“Oh, Doctor Lecter!” The nurse exclaims. 

Hannibal gets out of bed and greets the nurse with a handshake, like old friends. Will watches Hannibal pull him out into the hallway and watches both of their lips move, but he can’t hear a single word they say. They glance over at him a few times during their conversation. Finally the nurse nods, then leaves and Hannibal walks back into the room. 

Will raises an eyebrow at him while Hannibal climbs back into the bed. 

“I can stay,” Hannibal whispers. “I said you’ll likely get no rest if I am not here, and it would be better to just let me stay.”

“Good.”

They lay there together in the small, cramped bed, but there’s nowhere else Will would rather be as long as it means he can have Hannibal by his side. 

Will drifts off at some point, Hannibal’s head on his chest pushing him down into the mattress, encouraging him to succumb to his exhaustion. 

His dreams have been just as bad as they always are, and tonight he dreams of Hobbs sitting in the chair at his side, chest full of bullet holes. There’s a pressure pushing him down, down, down into the mattress and when Will looks down, his own chest is being littered with gunshots, pushing him down with each blow. 

Garrett Jacob Hobbs holds one of Will’s hands in his own, and behind him stands Abigail, a hand on Hobbs’s shoulder, a slice across her neck, antlers through her midsection. 

In unison, they both say, “See?” 

Will wakes with a start, just as he always does. The room around him is the one like his dream. The hospital room he’s been in for two days. He tries to get his breathing under control at the realization that he’s awake and that Hannibal is the only other person in the room. 

“You’re alright, Will,” Hannibal whispers. “You’re okay.”

Will’s hand finds Hannibal’s own resting on his chest and squeezes it tight. 

“I’m okay,” Will says after a minute. 

“At least you aren’t sweating through your hospital gown. That is a good sign,” Hannibal murmurs. 

Will woke up in a sweat, but not drenched like usual. That's an improvement. He realizes the room around him is even slightly chilly and he tries to pull his blanket up from his waist. 

“You’re on the blanket,” Will whispers. 

Hannibal gets out of the bed, which isn’t what Will wanted at all, but Will is able to pull the blanket to his chin. He watches as Hannibal goes to one of the bags he brought and pulls out two pairs of pajama pants.

“Put these on,” Hannibal says, handing a pair to Will. 

Will carefully gets out of bed and pulls the pants on, instantly feeling warmer in the cold room. He hasn’t felt chilled like this in a long time. Hannibal changes his pants too, and then they’re both climbing back into the hospital bed, Hannibal curled up next to Will under the blanket. 

Hannibal kisses his chest and Will falls asleep again within minutes. 

When he wakes in the morning, he’s pleased that Hannibal is still in bed with him, snoring softly next to him. He smiles and lets Hannibal sleep on while he picks up his book and reads it. 

After twenty minutes, Hannibal begins to stir and Will looks down to see a sleepy look on his face, his hair completely rumpled, a yawn forming on his lips. 

“Good morning,” Hannibal says. “You get to go home today.”

“As long as it looks like I am responding well to treatment. They’re bringing me in for another brain scan at ten,” Will says, setting the book down. 

Hannibal lifts his head to look at the clock on the far wall. “In thirty minutes?” 

“Mhm. I suspect nurses will be in any moment to start taking these needles out of my arms.”

“Good. I will get up then,” Hannibal says, rolling off of the mattress and standing on the floor. He picks up his pants from the night before and takes them into the bathroom. 

Hannibal comes back, hair slicked back with water, sweater only slightly wrinkled. Will gestures for him to come over, which he does, and Will reaches out to mess up his hair again, earning a glare, which turns into a fond smile only a second later. 

* * *

Nurses come in, remove Will’s IVs, then Sutcliffe comes in and gives Hannibal and Will both a look, then takes Will for an MRI while Hannibal stays back to clean up their stuff around the hospital room. 

Hannibal sits and waits, playing a game on his tablet for a few minutes before switching to see if there’s anything good on Tattlecrime. No ones tried to copy any of his work, which Hannibal finds boring. He does see a few kills that he could easily copy if he wanted to, though. He could tell Will about those kills and Will would just think Hannibal is a really good copycat killer and nothing more. 

When Will comes back, Doctor Sutcliffe is following him and addresses them both. 

“It seems that you’re responding well to the treatment and you’ll be able to go home as expected. I have prescriptions for you, take as directed. You’ll need to come back for a few more scans just to make sure everything is still going well,” Sutcliffe explains. Finally he gives Will papers with all of the information he’ll need about continuing his treatment at home and then he’s free to go. 

“When do you go back to work?” Will asks as they get into Hannibal’s car. 

“Monday,” Hannibal answers. “I was hoping to stay with you until then, but I don’t want to invite myself.”

“No, no, please. Stay with me,” Will says. “I am going to be bored out of my mind alone.” 

Hannibal smiles as he puts the car in drive. “I need to stop at home.”

“Okay,” Will agrees. 

Will stays in the car while Hannibal fills a bag with enough clothes to last him until Monday morning. He gets a cooler that he fills with ingredients to use for meals, knowing Will’s fridge is likely lacking after so many days away. 

The drive to Wolf Trap is quiet, Will leaning against the window with his eyes closed, Hannibal not wanting to disturb his rest. 

They stop at the pharmacy Will sent his prescriptions to, and Will goes inside, a tired look in his eyes. Hannibal stands in line with him, holding his hand. Hannibal doesn’t mind public displays of affection. He likes showing people that he and Will are together, and he does so at any moment he can. Which isn’t often at all, with them hiding their relationship from everyone they know. 

At Will’s house Hannibal carries in all of their bags, leaving the clothes next to Will’s bed, then bringing the cooler into the kitchen. He sets it on the counter, then hears the front door open again, even though Will was supposed to go lay down.

“You’re on bed rest,” Hannibal reminds him when he finds Will standing on the porch, watching the dogs. “I will worry about the dogs, you go put on some pajamas and get comfortable. I will join you soon.”

Will huffs in response, but goes anyway, leaving Hannibal to take care of the dogs. When Hannibal goes back inside, he hears Will’s house phone ringing. 

* * *

Will stumbles out of bed to get to the landline in the kitchen, just as Hannibal comes in the front door with the dogs. He knows Hannibal wants to say something about him being in bed, but it’s better to answer now than have to worry about them calling back.

People don’t usually call his landline; he usually doesn’t give the number out to anyone other than his vet’s office and doctor’s offices. Especially doesn’t even tell Jack Crawford he has one because then he’ll never be able to shut off his cell phone and ignore him again. 

“Hello?”

“Will Graham? It’s the Wolf Trap Veterinarian Clinic. We’ve been trying to reach you for a few days now. We were wondering if you have room for one more,” the woman on the other end says. 

He looks around at the seven dogs filing into the kitchen, Hannibal in tow. _Definitely not,_ Will thinks. 

“Yeah, of course,” Will answers instead. _What’s one more?_ he reasons with himself. 

“Cool. He’s a Brittany spaniel named Rusty. Around four years old. His owners couldn’t keep him anymore and I told them we’d help find a home,” she says. “He seems to be really good with other pets and he’s trained. You’re the first person we thought of.”

“Sounds great,” Will says, looking at Hannibal, who is putting food that he brought into the fridge. He smiles slyly. “Could my boyfriend come pick him up now?” 

“Of course, just give us his name, and make sure he has his ID for confirmation,” she says. 

Will gives her Hannibal’s name then hangs up the phone. 

“You know where the vet clinic is?” Will asks, pulling out a piece of paper to write the address down. “Bring your ID and tell them you’re picking up Rusty.”

“Is Rusty a dog?” Hannibal asks. 

“Yes,” Will answers. 

“And you want me to go get him for you,” Hannibal says. 

“Yes. And you’re going to because you love me, and I should be in bed, so I can’t go myself,” Will says quickly. 

Hannibal sighs. “Very well. I’m taking your car.”

Will finds his keys where Beverly left them on the counter and hands them to Hannibal, then kisses him on the cheek. Will hands Hannibal a collar and a leash and pushes him out the front door with a promise to get in bed right after he leaves. 

* * *

Hannibal drives to the address Will gave him. He doesn’t think Will needs another dog, not while he’s supposed to be resting, but the look on Will’s face… Hannibal knows he has to do this for him, so he does. 

When he goes into the building, he walks up to the counter and smiles at the lady sitting there. 

“I’m Hannibal Lecter. I was told by Will Graham to come pick up a dog named Rusty,” Hannibal tells her. 

“Of course! Could I just see a driver’s license?” 

Hannibal hands it to her and she looks it over, then hands it back. 

“I will be just a moment,” the lady says with a smile and disappears into a back room. 

A few minutes later she comes back with a beautiful white dog with large brown spots. He pulls the leash out of his pocket and clips it to the collar he brought, then puts it around the dog's neck. Hannibal leans down and feels the dogs soft, fluffy ears and the dog turns to lick his hand.

“I am assuming Will already knows everything about bringing a new dog home, but do make sure to tell him to call if Rusty has any problems with the rest of the pack,” the lady says. “We’ll take him back if it’s not a good fit, but Will’s taken a few from us over the years.”

“Very well. Thank you,” Hannibal says with a nod. 

He leads the excited dog out to Will’s car and opens the back door for him. Rusty jumps into the car and sits on the seat, as Hannibal closes the door and gets into the driver’s seat once more. The dog is panting heavily, so Hannibal opens the back windows just a crack, letting Rusty stick his nose out while Hannibal drives back to Will’s house.

Hannibal can’t explain it, but he already likes this dog. “Russel, I do hope you get along with the others,” Hannibal tells him. The dog stands with his front paws on the center console and licks Hannibal’s ear, which causes Hannibal to smile. 

Back at Will’s house, Hannibal pulls into the barn and gets out of the car, then leads Rusty around to the house. Will is standing on the front porch waiting for them both.

“You’re supposed to be in bed,” Hannibal reminds him. 

“I need to oversee how the other dogs like him,” Will says. He bends down and pets the dog, leaning his forehead against Rusty’s while he ruffles his ears. “Hi, Rusty.”

When Will stands, he brushes his hands on his pajama pants, then walks across the porch where he has a collapsed kennel leaning against the house. He sets it up, then gestures for Hannibal to bring Rusty over.

“He’ll go in the crate, so the other dogs can come and sniff and if anyone gets aggressive, he won’t get hurt,” Will explains, taking the leash off and shutting Rusty inside. “I almost never have problems, though.”

Hannibal nods then looks down. “Why don’t you have shoes on?”

Will shrugs.

“It’s freezing out here,” Hannibal says. “You’re not even wearing socks.”

“Fine, I will go put on some socks,” Will retorts, and goes inside. He comes back out wearing shoes, and a jacket because he must have known Hannibal was going to comment on that next. “I’m going to bring them out now.”

Will opens the door and all seven dogs come running out to see the new friend they likely already smelled when Will walked into the house. 

“Sit,” Will commands. All seven dogs sit right where they are and look up at him, then peer around him to look at Rusty, who is tapping his feet excitedly where he stands, jumping up and down in the crate. “Rusty, sit.”

Rusty sits too, but all of the dogs continue to wiggle, waiting for Will’s next command. Hannibal watches from a few feet away, leaning against the porch railing while Will leads each dog to sniff at Rusty and meet him. When no one seems to have a problem, Will lets Rusty out of the crate and lets them all meet each other up close.

Hannibal notes that Winston has no interest in meeting the new member of the family, just stays by Will’s side as the other dogs go play in the yard.

“Don’t worry, buddy,” Will says, patting Winston’s head. “You still get to sleep in my bed whenever you want.”

Winston cocks his head at Will, then licks the hand Will extended towards him. 

“Good boy,” Will says, then pulls a treat out of his pocket. 

“You aren’t good at hiding your favoritism, darling,” Hannibal says, watching the entire thing happen.

Will shrugs. “Winston likes me better than the rest of them do. Buster likes my attention too, but he’s an asshole about it.”

Hannibal laughs. “Yes, he’s quite demanding, isn’t he? I wonder who he learns it from.”

“Uh huh, you’re the needy one, not me,” Will says with a smirk. 

“Perhaps,” Hannibal says, defeated. He knows he’s more forward about what he wants than Will is, more quick to pull Will close and hold him, more likely to drive an hour just because he misses Will.

Will whistles loud and all the dogs come running back into the house, Rusty watching his new brothers and sisters to see what the protocol is. Once inside, Will turns on the space heater for them, and they all curl up in different beds, except for Winston, who follows Will to his own bed. 

“I’m going to make lunch,” Hannibal says. “Any requests?”

“Could you make more soup? And maybe something to go with it? Your choice,” Will says, settling into bed and pulling his blankets up to his chin.

Hannibal’s glad the fever has gone down and that Will is finally cold. It’ll make him stay close at night, which is a thought Hannibal smiles about as he goes into the kitchen to begin cooking lunch. 

Will’s asleep when Hannibal brings in soup for him. He sets the bowls down the nightstand, then puts a light hand on Will’s shoulder and says his name.

“Huh?” Will wakes with a start, then settles again when he sees it’s Hannibal. 

“I made a heartier soup today, more in it than the other ones. Instead of making something else,” Hannibal explains, handing Will a bowl and getting into bed next to him with his own.

“Thank you, it’s good,” Will says after he takes a mouthful. 

They eat their soup sitting against the headboard, legs crossed as Winston lays at the foot of the bed. When they both finish, Hannibal takes both bowls to the sink and then changes into some pajamas, so he can get into bed with Will.

He’s trying to let himself sleep more, knowing he has nothing to worry about by letting his guard down around Will. Even so, the night before did not bring a great quality rest, with the hospital bed making it hard for him to get comfortable. It didn’t help that Will was quite restless next to him the entire night. 

Hannibal pulls the blankets over both of them, and curls up next to Will, an arm draped over his stomach, his face nuzzling into the side of Will’s neck with his nose.

“You’re like a cat,” Will says, then turns to face away from Hannibal, grabbing his arm so Hannibal can lay pressed up behind him. 

“Have you ever considered getting a cat?” Hannibal asks, stuck on that comparison. 

“I don’t mind cats, but I have eight dogs now.”

“Hm. I like cats,” Hannibal says. 

“Why don’t you get one then?”

“My house is not…. decorated safely for a cat,” Hannibal answers. “Maybe one day.”

“A cat would shred up all of your nice furniture,” Will agrees. He yawns, then says, “I’m going to sleep now. No more talking.”

Hannibal laughs quietly, then tightens his arm around Will’s body. He falls asleep after just a few minutes of listening to Will’s breathing. 

* * *

The rest of the day consists of nothing but eating and sleeping. Hannibal agrees that Will can lay on the couch and watch TV instead of staying in bed, so he lays with his head in Hannibal’s lap. Hannibal lazily pets his head while he does. 

Friday, Beverly comes over to see how Will’s doing, and they sit and eat lunch together while Hannibal runs a few errands. Beverly leaves when Hannibal gets back, and the two men spend the rest of the day laying in bed. 

Saturday, Jack stops by to talk about a case. He didn’t call ahead of time, so Hannibal has to hide upstairs the entire time Jack is there. Will keeps trying not to glance at Hannibal’s shoes or coat by the front door, or one of his waistcoats draped over a chair. He knows if he glances, he’ll draw attention to them. He hates how he can’t even have Hannibal’s things in his own house without running the risk of someone noticing.

If Jack does notice anything, he doesn’t say a word. Not that Will ever wears waistcoats, but maybe Jack just thinks it’s his. He does have to keep calling Rusty away from the stairs each time he goes near looking for Hannibal.

“Did you get a new dog?” Jack asks. 

“Yeah. Picked him up yesterday,” Will says. “His name is Rusty. His family couldn’t keep him so my vet called and asked if I had room for another. He doesn’t quite know he’s not supposed to go upstairs yet, but I don't blame him for being curious.”

“Is that eight now?”

Will nods. He doesn’t push the conversation further, hoping Jack takes his leave soon.

He enjoys Jack’s company, sees the man as a friend, but _god_ is he nervous about Hannibal being upstairs. It feels like he’s harboring a fugitive, which - Will laughs to himself at the thought that he technically is hiding a criminal in his house. Not that Jack knows that, and not that Will even knows if Hannibal is a wanted killer. For all Will knows, Hannibal has pinned every kill on someone else, just as he did with Nicholas Boyle.

Finally, _finally_ Will finds it a good time to tell Jack that he needs to get back into bed to rest, and Jack nods sympathetically. 

“Take care, Will,” Jack says on the way out the front door. “I’ll likely stop by again if we find anything else out about this case.”

“You can always just give me a call. If I don’t answer, assume I’m sleeping and I’ll call back later,” Will tells him.

“Of course.”

After that, Jack leaves, and Will calls Hannibal back downstairs. 

“I hate this,” Will says once Hannibal is downstairs and they’re settled on the couch, Will’s head in Hannibal’s lap. 

Hannibal’s hand stills in his hair. “You will have to be more specific, I’m afraid,” Hannibal says.

“Having to hide. I thought Jack was going to see your clothes, or that Rusty was gonna give you away,” Will sighs. “I know why we have to do it, it just sucks that not even my own house is safe from people showing up.”

“We will just have to give it some time, my love,” Hannibal says.

“Jack’s going to want you keeping an eye on me from a psychiatric standpoint,” Will says. “I’m not seeing a different fucking shrink, I’ll tell you that.”

Hannibal doesn’t say anything, just resumes running his fingers through Will’s hair and massaging his scalp.

“Do you actually not get paid by the FBI for my sessions?” Will asks.

“It’s part of what I get paid for consulting work. There’s nothing that says they’re paying me for your therapy.”

“So you basically just consult on cases with me specifically,” Will clarifies. “So there’s like no ethical boundary being crossed. We’re coworkers that just happen to meet in your therapy office.”

“I suppose so, but you know Alana doesn’t see it that way. Your psych eval was not long ago either. The Bureau would see a problem if we come out as a couple any time soon.”

Will sighs. “I know, I know. I’m just thinking about how stupid it is that we’re in this situation.”

“Mm, I know.”

Will falls asleep with his head in Hannibal’s lap, and after a while, he’s being moved and laid down on the couch. He wakes at the movement, then Hannibal pulls a blanket over him and leans down to kiss his lips.

“I’m going to feed the dogs,” Hannibal tells him. “It’s Saturday. Should I make their food?”

Will knows Hannibal picked up the ingredients the day before, and Will adjusted his recipe card to account for the extra dog, so he nods. 

Some time later, Hannibal shakes him awake again, and Will sits up on the couch. He’s given a bowl of pasta and mumbles a thanks as Hannibal sits down on the couch next to him with his own bowl. 

“Did you want to take a bath after dinner?” Hannibal asks.

“Will you join me?” Will asks.

“If you want me to.”

Will nods and they continue to eat side by side on the couch. When they finish, Hannibal takes both bowls into the kitchen and Will can hear him washing them.

Hannibal comes back and they both go up the stairs together, and undress when they get into the bathroom. Hannibal starts the water, and gets into the tub, then Will follows, getting in between his legs, pressing his back to Hannibal’s chest.

“Thank you for staying with me this week,” Will whispers. He lets his body relax in the warm water, feels safe with Hannibal’s arms wrapped around him. He always feels so safe with Hannibal’s arms around him. 

That first night they shared a bed, Will felt suffocated by Hannibal’s arm, felt pinned down in the bed after his nightmare. Now he needs that. He needs Hannibal’s calming touch when he wakes up gasping for air. Needs it like he needs the air he can’t get into his lungs every single time. 

Will intends to keep Hannibal as long as he can, until that frequently sought after touch turns painful. Right now, Hannibal is what he needs, but Will knows Hannibal is a killer, has a penchant for violence. He just wishes he knew how much violence. He hopes the love overpowers it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments! Tell me what your predictions are, I love hearing them!!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things.  
> 1\. I hate writing sex scenes with a passion. 
> 
> 2\. People on twitter keep telling me Jack Black should have a cameo in this fic as a witness to a crime. I would like to hear thoughts on that. 
> 
> 3\. This chapter has ended up longer than I wanted it to be and I didn't even get to the thing I was planning on putting in it (next chapter tho, don't worry) which means this fic is going to be so long. So much longer than I initially thought it would be. Hope everyone sticks around. 
> 
> 4\. I don't actually know anything about encephalitis recovery, as I'm not a doctor, I've never had it, and research only gets me so far because I am incapable of doing it for more than five minutes. Excuse any inaccuracies in that subject. 
> 
> 5\. This chapter is mainly fluff and smut and I hope you enjoy :)

“There’s no place I would rather be,” Hannibal murmurs into the back of Will’s head as he holds him in his arms.

The bath water grows cold around them, and only then do they get out of the position they’ve been in the entire time. No longer comfortable, they get out and towel off. 

Hannibal takes the dogs outside after he dresses in pajamas, urging Will to get back in bed. 

All the dogs shuffle into the house, go lay by the space heater Will keeps on for them. Hannibal goes into the kitchen and gets himself a glass of water, then goes back to the living room. 

Will is sitting up in bed, glasses perched on his nose, a book in hand. He glances up at Hannibal then extends his hand towards the glass Hannibal is drinking from. Hannibal smiles and hands it to him, then crawls into bed next to him. 

“You are aware I got that for myself, aren’t you?” Hannibal asks as Will drinks the rest of it. 

Will doesn’t acknowledge him, just continues to drink the water while he reads his book. 

The glass is set empty on Will’s night stand after Will finishes it off. Hannibal almost wants to get up to get himself another, but he’s settled against Will’s body now, and he’s content to be close. He nuzzles his face against Will’s ribs, and Will finally takes off his glasses and lays down. 

“You should get a nicer bed,” Hannibal murmurs. The bedframe is flimsy, the mattress is thin. Hannibal can feel the metal of the frame under the mattress some nights. It’s something that has been on his mind since the first time he slept in the bed. If Will’s going to be spending all his time in bed, he might as well have something comfortable.

“Are you going to buy me one?” Will asks, amusement in his tone. Hannibal knows Will is not seriously asking, that he doesn’t even consider his bed to be uncomfortable. 

Still Hannibal nods against Will’s chest. “Don’t give me permission if you do not want me to.” 

“If you have a problem with it, you can solve it,” Will says. 

Hannibal smiles to himself, knowing Will is likely just saying it because he thinks Hannibal is bluffing. He rolls over and gets up, shuts off all the lights, then settles back into the uncomfortable bed with Will. The only reason he sleeps in it is because he’s so content to have Will by his side. 

* * *

On Sunday Will wakes early. He has been sleeping for days and there’s no more sleep left in him. Hannibal, on the other hand, sleeps well through Will showering, letting the dogs out, feeding them, and even feeding himself. 

Hannibal stirs when Will finally settles back into bed after all of his morning activities. 

The rest of their day is spent in bed, or on the couch, or the few minutes Hannibal lets Will stand on the porch. Will knows Hannibal just keeps an eye on him like this because he wants Will to get better, but Will is going crazy in his house. Not able to do anything but lay down. 

Monday morning, Hannibal leaves Will after breakfast. He leaves lunch in the fridge for Will to heat up, and he promises to come back after his last appointment. Will almost tells him not to; not to leave the lunch, not to come back if it is inconvenient, but he mostly just finds himself wanting to ask Hannibal to not leave in the first place. 

The next few days go in a similar fashion. Hannibal leaves in the morning after breakfast, a kiss goodbye, lunch in the fridge. He comes back to cook dinner and spend the night.

Friday he comes over after his last appointment, just as he always does, but not even an hour after he shows up, so does a large truck. And then two men are carrying a bed frame, a box spring, and a mattress into Will’s house. 

“A little warning next time?” Will asks. He makes Hannibal help him quickly get the dogs herded into the spare bedroom upstairs, out of the way. 

“That would spoil the surprise,” Hannibal responds. 

Back downstairs, the men are taking apart his old bed, leaning the mattress against the wall. They make quick work of assembling the new one. It’s much too large for the small space, looks just like Hannibal’s at home. For a second Will thinks Hannibal brought his own bed, but then he shakes his head. Hannibal may be spending the nights - every night - but he hasn’t moved in yet.  _ Right?  _ Will asks himself. 

The men ask what should be done with the old bed and Will tells them it can go in the bedroom upstairs not occupied by dogs. 

With that done, and the workers gone, Hannibal goes out to his car and returns a minute later with several large bags. 

He takes out the items inside and Will sees it’s all new bedding. Hannibal puts the new sheets on the bed as Will stands back and watches. 

“You really hated my bed that much?” Will asks. 

“The only good thing about it was that I was with you,” Hannibal answers, which Will scoffs at. “Besides, the dogs will fit more easily in this one with us.”

“It’s too big for the room,” Will says, but he knows he’s just making excuses. The bed looks really comfortable, and if it’s similar to Hannibal’s, he knows it is. It’s large, but there’s still enough space to get around it. 

Hannibal doesn’t respond to that, just puts pillows on the bed, blankets that look warmer than Will’s own. 

“You spend too much money on me,” Will tries. He knows that point is going to be argued. 

“Technically, this is an investment for myself as well. Seeing as I have spent more time here than my own home in the past two weeks,” Hannibal answers, not looking up from where he’s straightening a corner of a blanket. 

“That’s your choice,” Will says. 

“Would you like me to take the bed back and go home?” Hannibal asks, finally looking up at Will. Where his words are serious, somewhat exasperated, the corners of his mouth lift, and his eyes sparkle. 

“What if I said yes?” Will asks. 

He goes upstairs and lets the dogs free from the confines of the bedroom, then comes back down and immediately jumps into the bed. He flops down on his stomach and buries his face in the pillow with a groan. He never realized how uncomfortable his old bed was until he was faced with something so much better. 

Will turns his face against the pillow and looks at Hannibal, standing at the edge of the bed. 

“Don’t people ever show up to your house looking for you?” Will asks. “Surely Alana or Jack do.”

“Alana has hardly spoken to me since that night she attempted to kiss me. Jack has been spending time with Bella,” Hannibal answers. “Typically my conversations with Jack are about you, and he has no reason to seek me out for one of those conversations while you are out of the field.”

“Mm. I guess,” Will says. He reaches out for Hannibal, who laughs quietly and joins Will in the bed, sitting up against the headboard next to him. “We should have set Alana up with Beverly before she tried kissing you.”

“Yes well, now it would not be a good idea. She would think I am trying to make up for rejecting her,” Hannibal replies. 

Will moves closer so he can rest his head on Hannibal’s thigh, dances his fingers dangerously close to Hannibal’s groin. He knows he’ll be stopped before anything can progress, but for the moment he enjoys Hannibal squirming under his attention. 

Just as expected, when Will runs a finger from the base of Hannibal’s zipper, to the buckle of his belt, Hannibal grabs his wrist. He laces their fingers then rests both of their hands on his knee. 

“Oh come on,” Will protests. “The encephalitis is not going to withstand my medication just because I give you a handjob.”

“You and I both know that is not your end goal. You should not exert yourself more than you have to,” Hannibal says, for what feels like the fifteenth time this week. 

Will groans and rolls onto his back. 

“What if I lay back and you do all the work?” Will tries. 

“No,” Hannibal whispers and leans down to kiss Will’s lips. “Trust me, I would like to, but I am not risking your recovery by causing your mind or body any unnecessary stress.”

“If it’s only because of what happened last time we fucked, I can assure you I will be fine this time,” Will counters. He adds, only half joking, “If you keep your emotions in check.”

“I cannot guarantee that I can, my love,” Hannibal murmurs. “Just a bit longer, I promise.”

Will sighs. “Fine. As soon as I’m better I am riding you into the mattress. I promise you that.”

Hannibal’s breathing stops for a split second, enough for Will to catch it. He can also see that Hannibal’s cock is interested in his words. Will smirks to himself, but doesn’t say another word on the subject. 

After a while Hannibal gets up to make dinner. The rest of their night is spent laying in front of the TV while Will drifts in and out of sleep. Hannibal’s fingers card through his hair, where his head rests in Hannibal’s lap. It’s all become so routine. 

There are nights Hannibal doesn’t come back at all, and Will doesn’t blame him. Hannibal claims to not be bothered about waking up to Will’s nightmares, or the way Will has accidentally hit Hannibal on multiple occasions while he thrashes in his attempts to get out of the tangle of blankets. 

Still, even if Hannibal claims to not be bothered, Will knows the man needs to get a few good nights of sleep once in a while. On those nights Hannibal calls him, lets him know it’s because he’s having dinner with a colleague, or has an early morning appointment. 

Will doesn’t mind a few nights alone. 

He misses Hannibal on those nights, but he tells himself he’s not that needy, not that clingy. But he does miss him, and he does prefer the nights Hannibal stays. The nights Hannibal is there when he wakes up from nightmares and can’t breathe, can’t tell where he is. 

One those nights Hannibal whispers into his hair as he holds him. Whispers things in different languages, sometimes. Just so Will can hear the low purr of Hannibal’s voice and can ground himself back into the moment, back into reality, even if Will doesn’t understand the words he says. Even with the encephalitis clearing up, the nightmares are still frequent and cause Will to wake in a panic. 

Will’s recovery and time off goes through November, and into December. Jack stops by to show Will crime scene photos, Beverly stops by to just hang out. Alana even stops by a few times to see how he’s doing. 

He puts his foot down about Jack and Alana showing up unannounced, saying he needs at least a couple hour’s notice, or else he might be sleeping. Mostly it is so he can be sure none of Hannibal’s clothes are scattered across the house. Hannibal is usually good about putting his shirts and pants into a laundry basket, but sometimes a suit jacket is laid across the back of a chair, or a waistcoat is sitting on the arm of the couch. 

If Jack or Alana ever notice there is a second toothbrush in the cup on the bathroom counter, neither say anything about it. Or if the kitchen seems more well stocked than a person living alone, with only occasional guests getting a snack, would need. Or the fact that there’s books on both nightstands, on each side of the bed. Those are all things Will doesn’t want to move. That’s where he draws the line about hiding. 

Clothes shouldn’t be scattered around the house, anyway, but the rest of it? It’s his house, he should be able to live in it the way he wants. It helps that Jack knows he’s seeing someone, but Jack doesn’t ask, doesn’t mention, so Will has to wonder if he just doesn’t notice. Alana doesn’t seem to notice. 

Beverly, on the other hand, always points things out. 

“Really, Will? All of his shower products? Hair gel, nice toothpaste, even his cologne is just laying out in the bathroom,” she says one day. Will is sitting at his kitchen table, waiting for coffee to brew for them, while Beverly had been in the bathroom.

Will shrugs. “He’s here a lot. Like  _ a lot.”  _

“He’s practically moved in,” Beverly says.

“No. He’s just making sure I eat and sleep.”

“Every night.”

“Not  _ every  _ night,” Will protests. But it is nearly every night. Hannibal spends one, maybe two, nights a week at home.

“And is that a new bed I saw out there?” Beverly asks.

Will groans and puts his head in his hands. 

“He bought it,” Will admits. “Because he sleeps here so often that my old bed was a problem for him.”

“Have you told him you love him yet?” Beverly asks with a smile. “Because I know the only reason you’d agree to him buying you a bed is if you do.”

“You know I do. And no, I have not told him.”

“When are you gonna get your shit together, Graham? He’s not going to wait around forever until you say it,” Beverly sighs.

Except Will thinks that Hannibal definitely would stay around forever, even if Will never said it to him. Will knows one day he will, but even if he didn’t… Hannibal doesn’t seem bothered at all any of the times he says it and Will doesn’t respond. Well, Will responds, just not with words. He responds with smiles, and kisses, and a squeeze of his hand. Maybe for Hannibal, that’s enough.

Beverly leaves after they have coffee. Everyone always leaves after a short amount of time, after a quick conversation, or a coffee, or lunch. Even though Will insists they are always welcome to stay longer. 

None of them are as welcome as Hannibal, though. He likes seeing them all, but he’s always looking at the clock, waiting for Hannibal to show up. 

And Hannibal does, or he calls to say he won’t. Nearly every night, they eat dinner together, then lay on the couch, or take a bath, or lay in bed. Always near each other. Will wonders if this is just the honeymoon phase, or if they will always be like this, always craving each other’s company. 

For a month, it goes on like this. 

And for that entire month, they don’t have sex, barely even kiss longer than a few seconds. Will is surprised Hannibal even lets him sit so close, or sleep in the same bed, at this point, with how he’s acting about it. Because every time Will even  _ hints  _ at wanting to do  _ anything  _ sexual, Hannibal changes the subject, or takes Will’s hands into his own and holds them. Or rolls over to sleep on the other side of the bed.

Of course, Will isn’t going to push Hannibal if he doesn’t want to, but Will knows Hannibal is only doing it because of Will’s health and state of mind. Because he is so worried they’ll have a repeat of the night Will cried and had to pull out so they could talk. Even though Will tells him that will not happen again, because his brain is not completely on fire or melting in his skull anymore. 

Hannibal always tells him to wait until he is better. And it’s frustrating because Will feels fine enough, besides the tiredness, and besides the occasional headache, or spike in temperature.

Finally,  _ finally  _ after that month, Will goes in for another brain scan and most of the inflammation is gone. He still has the headaches sometimes, the fever comes and goes, but nowhere near as bad. He is assured that’s all part of recovery. 

He’s told he can go back to work, but to limit his time in the field. Jack tells him to wait a while longer, and Hannibal agrees with him. 

“It won’t do you any good to get back out there, darling,” Hannibal murmurs in bed, the night before Will is set to go back to teaching. 

Will splays his hand against Hannibal’s chest, feeling his heart beating under his spread finger tips. 

“I know,” Will says with a sigh. “I barely even want to go back to teaching.”

Hannibal laughs quietly. “I know, but it will be good to get out of the house. You’re nearly recovered.”

“Does that mean you won’t be staying here anymore?” Will asks, voice slightly muffled where he buries his face into Hannibal’s sweater.

“You need only ask if you want for me to spend the night. Or if you would like to spend the night at my house,” Hannibal whispers. “I will admit I have just fallen into a routine of coming here to cook you dinner and sleep in your bed.”

“It’s not an unwelcome routine, but I do think time apart will do us some good once in a while,” Will says.

Not that he wants time away from Hannibal, but they both have lives to live. Will knows he can’t keep Hannibal away from all of his other friends forever. Will knows he’ll get back into the field soon, and he knows how exhausted he can be coming home from lectures. Sometimes after a long day, the last thing he wants is to talk to more people. Even if that person is Hannibal. 

After a while, Will is sure Hannibal has fallen asleep, but Will is nearly startled by the sudden voice in the darkness.

“I think I may kill again soon,” Hannibal says. He says it soft and casual, as if it’s a usual conversation between partners. Maybe for them, it is. Or will be as time progresses.

Will lifts his head from Hannibal’s shoulder and looks up at his face. Will hopes his own face is asking for some sort of explanation in the dark.

When Hannibal doesn't immediately supply an explanation, Will asks.

“When and who?” 

“This weekend. The identity does not matter much.”

“You’ve got to give me more information, Hannibal,” Will says. “What are you doing with the body?”

“There’s a killer that has been taking organs. I may do a copycat of that,” Hannibal murmurs. 

Will’s heart stops. “Not. Not the Ripper.” It’s not a question, more of a  _ Please, do not rip off the Chesapeake Ripper.  _

“No,” Hannibal says, his voice taking on a soothing tone. “Not the Ripper.”

Will drops his head back down to Hannibal’s shoulder and sighs. 

“I’m not going to stop you, but if you get caught I’m denying knowing anything,” Will says. He adds, because he feels like he needs to, “Please don’t get caught.”

“I am very careful.”

“Is that what you do? Copycat killings?” Will asks. 

“Among other things, yes,” Hannibal answers. 

Hannibal’s hand rests on Will’s back and rubs circles, a calming motion. Will feels himself start to get tired and he moves his hand from where his fingers are spread on Hannibal’s chest, to wrap his arm around his waist.

“Thanks for letting me know,” Will says after a while. 

Hannibal makes a noise in acknowledgement and Will knows he’s on the verge of sleep. Will lets himself drift off too. 

* * *

The alarm goes off much too soon and Hannibal groans as Will sits up to shut it off. Hannibal has been letting himself get more sleep, and now his body craves it like it never has before. Will flops back down onto Hannibal’s chest and presses a kiss to his collarbone. 

“Must you set your alarm so early?” Hannibal asks, checking the clock. Neither of them have to be up for at least another hour. 

“I like waking up and finding out I have more time to sleep,” Will responds sleepily, already settling back into the mattress. 

“It disrupts your sleep cycle.”

“Don’t care. Go back to sleep,” Will mumbles. 

Hannibal knows that if he didn’t love Will as much as he does, he would not stand for the alarm clock being set so early. But he does, and with that, he would do anything for the man curled up next to him. 

When it is finally time to wake up, Hannibal kisses Will, then leads him to the shower. Hannibal is still firm in his no sex until Will is fully recovered mindset, so even when Will’s hands drift in the shower, Hannibal redirects them. Even if he is rock hard and has been thinking about all of Will’s promises to ride him into the mattress non stop since he said it. 

“Are you busy on Saturday evening?” Hannibal asks when they finally get dressed and make it to the breakfast table. 

“Depends,” Will answers, taking a sip of orange juice. He looks at Hannibal over the rim of the glass, his eyebrows raised.

“There’s an art gallery I would like to visit. With you. And then I would like to have you over for dinner,” Hannibal says. “And of course, you can stay the night if you wish.”

“A public date?” Will asks. 

Hannibal nods. “No one we know would be there, though. It is not a large gallery. A couple of local artists.”

“Tell you what. I’ll go to the gallery. And I’ll come over for dinner, but I have a condition,” Will says, giving Hannibal a serious look. “I need you to stop worrying about breaking me.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning if we’re both in the mood to fuck after dinner, I really don’t want you to stop us by using my health as an excuse. If I’m fine to teach, I am fine to take you to bed,” Will says, pointing his fork at Hannibal. “If you don’t want to for any other reason, we won’t. The reason won’t be my health, though.”

Hannibal sighs. “Very well.”

“Good.”

After breakfast, they both leave at the same time. They kiss each other goodbye, Hannibal pressing Will up against the door of Will’s car before leaving him for his own in the barn. 

Hannibal sits through several patients, all complaining about something or other. Then, he makes his way to Bedelia’s house for an appointment of his own. 

“Hannibal, come in,” she says, opening the door. 

“Doctor Du Maurier,” Hannibal greets her. 

“It’s been quite some time since our last appointment,” Bedelia says after they settle into their opposite chairs. “Tell me what is new since we’ve last met.”

“I’ve met someone,” Hannibal tells her. He’s unable to contain his smile at the words. “Who I have entered a relationship with.”

“Tell me about them,” she prompts. 

So Hannibal does. “I met him through work with the FBI,” Hannibal starts. “We’re keeping our relationship a secret. He is not technically my patient, but some of our friends see him as such. I did his psychological evaluation before we started our relationship.”

“And you’re scared people will think you only passed him because of your romantic interest in him,” Bedelia supplies. 

Hannibal gives her a small nod, such a minuscule gesture, but she sees it. 

“And how many people do know?”

“You,” Hannibal starts. “Abigail Hobbs, and one of Will’s coworkers. Beverly Katz.”

“Abigail Hobbs is the girl you saved in Minnesota,” Bedelia clarifies. “And you said Will…” She takes a pause, in thought, then, “Will Graham was the agent that took Garrett Jacob Hobbs down,” Bedelia says. “Will Graham is your partner?”

“Yes,” Hannibal answers. 

“And Will is different from any other past lovers? I can tell you regard him highly.”

“Perhaps higher than anyone else I have ever known.”

“Different, indeed.”

“Very. I have never felt the desire to open up my life to someone as I have him. He was in the hospital with encephalitis, and then on bed rest at home for nearly the past month. Today is his first day back at work. I have spent almost every night with him since his diagnosis,” Hannibal tells her. “I would never have done that for anyone else.”

“You are not a selfless creature. Surely there is something in it for you,” Bedelia says. Hannibal wonders if he should feel insulted by this, but he doesn’t. It’s true that he almost always acts selfishly. 

“I love him,” Hannibal says quietly. “He makes me feel… alive. He understands me, sees me. Not completely, but enough.”

“And does he love you back?”

Hannibal smiles to himself. “He has not told me to my face. He said it when he believed me to be sleeping. About a month ago.” 

“And not again since?”

Hannibal shakes his head. “Unless he does when I truly am asleep. He’s not ready to admit it yet. He has told me none of his relationships get to the stage where he is loved or loves in return. This is new for him.”

“It’s new for you as well, is it not?”

“Yes. Very.”

“Does he know about your past? What happened to your family?”

Hannibal shakes his head. “He assumes I have had a traumatic event in my past, but I have not told him yet.”

Bedelia doesn’t press him any further than that. He talks about Will’s dogs, about how much he enjoys spending time at Will’s home. Right up until his hour is over. 

After his appointment he checks his phone to see a message from Will. 

_ come over tonight? _

Hannibal sends back a simple ‘Yes.’ and gets into his car. He’s done with work for the day, so he stops home for a clean suit for the next day and drives to Will’s. 

* * *

Will has had a day. Not his worst, but certainly not his best, either. A day. He wants to crawl into bed and sleep. His heads been pounding, he’s beyond tired. He’s stretched so thin by all of the human interaction he had to endure all day. 

For some reason, after all of that, he still craves Hannibal’s arms around him, craves his company. Wants the man to rub the tension out of his body and massage his temples until his headache goes away. So he texts him, and he’s delighted that Hannibal agrees to come over. 

He lets the dogs out, feeds them, then crawls into bed and waits. Winston joins him and Will falls asleep not long after that. 

The bed shifts and Will wakes up at the movement. He didn’t hear the door open, and thinks it’s a dog for a second, but then he feels a hand on his face. A gentle caress, pushing his hair away from his forehead. He leans into the touch.

“Hannibal?” Will murmurs. 

“I’m here,” Hannibal whispers. 

Will opens his arms, heavy as he’s still half asleep. Hannibal lays next to him and settles beside him. Will falls asleep again instantly, arm draped over Hannibal’s waist. 

When he wakes, the sun has set completely and the room is dark. Hannibal is there, a few inches away, and he only vaguely remembers him arriving. He shakes his shoulder slightly and Hannibal opens his eyes. 

“Hey, baby,” Will whispers. 

“Hello,” Hannibal smiles. He rolls over and kisses Will on the forehead. “How was your day?”

“Better now,” Will responds. “My head was killing me almost all day. I was so tired when I got home.”

“You’re not used to so much moving around. You should not have gone back to your full course schedule, but rather eased into it,” Hannibal says. “Maybe only do one lecture a day, or teach every other day. Surely someone else can continue to fill in until you’re fully recovered.”

Will makes a humming noise and buries his face in Hannibal’s chest, inhaling the scent that feels like home. 

“How is your head now?” Hannibal asks. 

“Okay. Nap helped,” Will says. “Can you make dinner?”

Hannibal laughs quietly, his chest lightly rumbling under Will’s face. 

“Of course,” Hannibal says. “Now?”

“Please,” Will says. On cue, his stomach growls and he laughs. “I wasn’t hungry at lunch, so I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

Hannibal makes a dissatisfied noise but doesn’t say anything about it. He gets out of bed and Will lays there for another second before following him into the kitchen. 

“How was your day?” Will asks. He sits down at the kitchen table and watches Hannibal move around the kitchen.

Hannibal looks up from the stove after he sets a pan down. 

“My patients are very dull,” Hannibal sighs. “I did have an appointment with my own psychiatrist today.”

“You see a psychiatrist?” 

Hannibal nods once. “Yes. I have since I became a psychiatrist. This was my first appointment in quite some time.”

Will nods and taps his fingers on the table twice. He wants to ask more questions, but decides to let it drop when the dogs come into the kitchen and sit around Will’s feet. Buster jumps up and puts his front paws on Will’s knee.

“I don’t have any treats,” Will tells him. He gestures with his head towards Hannibal. “Go ask him, he’s the one cooking.”

“Do not send them over here,” Hannibal warns. 

Will snaps his fingers to get all of their attention and points in Hannibal’s direction and the dogs go scrambling over to him. 

“Will,” Hannibal sighs. He looks down at the dogs surrounding him. “If only I could cook without all of this extra help.” 

“You choose to be here knowing I have eight dogs,” Will reminds him. 

“And you are fully capable of making sure I don’t get swarmed in the kitchen,” Hannibal responds. 

Will watches him take a bag from the fridge and start dropping pieces of sausage on the floor for the dogs. 

“What’s that made out of?” Will asks. 

“Pork,” Hannibal answers. He glances up at Will. He adds, “Actual pigs.”

Will barks out a laugh at that and shakes his head. He stands from his seat at the kitchen table and goes to the fridge to pull out their food. 

The dogs all leave Hannibal alone in favor of eating their dinner. Will settles back down into his spot at the table and watches Hannibal cook. 

When Hannibal sets a plate in front of him, he also drops a kiss to the top of Will’s head. Will smiles into his plate as Hannibal takes his seat across from him. 

“Thursday,” Will says, pointing his fork at Hannibal. “6:30?” 

“If you’d like,” Hannibal answers. “We do not need to meet in my office. I told Jack we aren’t having sessions until you’re back in the field.”

“No, but we should likely talk about what going back into the field entails. And you’ve wanted to talk about those Ripper scenes for a while now. Maybe we come up with something none of us have thought of before the next sounder,” Will suggests. 

“Maybe,” Hannibal agrees. “Very well. Thursday at 6:30 in my office.”

“Should we talk about office etiquette now or later?” 

“Hm. Finish your dinner,” Hannibal says. “We can talk about it over a glass of wine on the couch.” 

* * *

When they finally finish eating, and the dogs have been outside again, they sit down on the couch with wine, as promised. 

Will closes the distance between them and Hannibal lifts his arm so the other man can fit comfortably into his side. 

“Office etiquette,” Hannibal prompts. 

“Mhm. In your office, we’re not in a relationship,” Will says. “It’s not as if anyone will be there, but… I do need these sessions, which is not something I often, or ever, admit. We need to have some professionalism. Can’t spend them fucking.”

“I wouldn’t dare think of it,” Hannibal says. Although, he has thought of it. On more than one occasion. “I do need to tell Jack how you’re doing with field work, of course. The sessions would need to include at least some discussion about that.”

“Yeah. And,” Will pauses and Hannibal looks down to see him smiling into his wine glass, seemingly remembering something pleasant. “We’ve already established that there are things you don’t repeat to Jack. Office conversations will, for the most part, be fair game.”

Hannibal now remembers that night in his study all those nights ago when they had a similar conversation, the night where he and Will just barely made it to the bed. Too caught up in each other to part for more than a few seconds as they took the stairs. That night was the start of them giving a label to their relationship. The night Hannibal started falling in love with Will Graham. He is certain that’s the night Will is thinking of, too.

“I mean, I’m sure you can judge what I would want shared or not. Some… more personal stuff like my nightmares, or whatever, I would rather keep between us,” Will says. “Work stuff is fine.”

“Of course,” Hannibal agrees. “I presume that the professionalism extends to me not being allowed to kiss you hello.”

“Mmm,” Will hums, drawn out as if in thought. “I’ll allow one kiss right at 6:30. And perhaps one more at 7:30 when I leave.”

“I would be okay with that,” Hannibal agrees. “Though you are more than welcome to come over for dinner after your appointment.” 

“As therapy?” Will teases. “Or will I be your boyfriend?”

Hannibal kisses the top of Will’s head, but doesn’t respond. He smiles into the curls and Will picks up the TV remote, the conversation over. 

After fifteen minutes of some sitcom Hannibal isn’t too keen on, Will makes a displeased noise and fidgets in a way that Hannibal knows means he wants to change positions, but doesn’t want to ask. It tends to happen every time they sit down on the couch like this.

“Yes, Will?” Hannibal asks. 

Will sits up straight and looks at Hannibal, as if Will thinks Hannibal should just understand. Of course, Hannibal does understand. 

“How would you like me to sit, then?” Hannibal asks with a sigh, looking back at Will. Hannibal is settled on the couch, his side leaning against one armrest with his feet on the floor in front of him. He’s comfortable as he is, but he knows he would do anything for Will.

Suddenly, hands are moving Hannibal’s legs onto the couch, and his body is being moved so his back is resting against the arm rest. Will settles down between Hannibal’s legs, back to Hannibal’s chest. 

“You can just ask,” Hannibal murmurs. 

“Moving you works just fine,” Will says. He tips his head back against Hannibal’s shoulder, and Hannibal turns his face so he can kiss the corner of Will’s mouth. 

Hannibal puts his arms around Will and Will holds one of Hannibal’s hands in his own. Eventually Will’s hand goes slack in his grip and his breathing has evened out. Hannibal doesn’t want to move him just yet, wants to let him sleep for a bit, so he stays where he is. 

He doesn’t intend on watching the entire movie that comes on TV. He isn’t a big fan of comedy movies, but this one has caught his attention. Students that play classical music being taught rock n roll by a fake substitute teacher. Not even in their music classes. He can’t help but smile through it. 

Will stirs after a while, during the scene when the parents find out the teacher is a fraud.

“Mm. Are you watching School of Rock?” Will asks, voice still sleepy. 

“Is that what this movie is called?” Hannibal asks. “I’m quite intrigued by the concept.”

“It’s a good movie,” Will mumbles. He turns on his side slightly to face the TV better, still pressed against Hannibal’s chest. 

“Your shoulder is cutting off my airflow,” Hannibal says. 

_ “I’m _ comfortable,” Will responds. 

“Well, of course. How could I be so inconsiderate?” 

Will makes a tired groaning noise and scoots down lower so his shoulder is no longer digging into Hannibal’s chest. 

“Are you watching the movie or are you going to fall asleep again?” Hannibal asks. 

“No, no. I’m watching it,” Will says with a yawn. 

“Go to bed,” Hannibal says, pushing at Will’s back to urge him off the couch. “It’s late, anyway.”

“Only if you come with me,” Will says. 

“I want to finish this.”

“Then I’ll stay here,” Will says. He turns over so he’s laying on his stomach between Hannibal’s legs, head resting on Hannibal’s stomach. 

Hannibal drops a hand to Will’s head, running his fingers through the man’s hair. Will falls asleep on top of him again and Hannibal laughs quietly. He had known this would happen the second Will said he would stay awake to watch it.

The credits roll on the screen and Hannibal leans forward to pick up the remote and shut off the TV. 

“Will,” Hannibal whispers. 

“Hm?” 

“Let’s go to bed.”

Will makes a groaning noise before pulling himself off the couch and onto his feet. Hannibal takes both of their empty wine glasses to the sink and comes back to find Will laying face down on the bed, fully clothed. 

Hannibal puts the dogs out, watches them from the porch, counts them all as they come back to the house. Inside, he locks the door and shuts off all the lights, then finds Will exactly where he left him. 

“Don’t you want to get undressed?” Hannibal asks as he unbuttons his shirt. 

“Tired,” Will says into the pillow. “Help me?”

Hannibal finishes undressing down to his underwear, then climbs into the bed. He rolls Will over and starts unbuttoning his flannel shirt, and Will sits up long enough for Hannibal to remove it completely. 

He gets Will’s pants off, too, and Will is left in just his undershirt and boxers. 

“You’re going to be cold,” Will tells him. 

Hannibal is already getting up and pulling on a sweater and sleep pants when Will says it. 

He gets into bed with Will again and pulls the blankets over both of them. Will rolls over and nuzzles his face into Hannibal’s chest and Hannibal’s wraps an arm around his back. 

“Hannibal,” Will whispers. 

“Will.”

“What you did with Cassie Boyle to show me Hobbs,” Will starts. Hannibal makes an acknowledging sound and Will continues, “Could you do that to help us catch the Ripper?”

Hannibal’s breathing stills for a second and he wonders how he can possibly handle this situation. Of course he can’t say yes to Will’s request. But how can he say no without it being obvious?

“The Ripper is not someone I would like to provoke,” Hannibal says after a moment. “Hobbs had a specific victim pool. He would not have come after me had he known it was me copying his work. He was no match for me physically, regardless. The Ripper would likely be stronger than I am and his victims don’t fit any sort of pattern. He’d have no qualms about adding me to one of his sounders.” 

“I guess,” Will says. After a few seconds he continues, “You’re right. I wouldn’t want you to put yourself in danger like that. I’m surprised the Ripper didn’t catch that last copycat before we did.” 

Hannibal wants to say he didn’t even try, that he could have if he wanted to. He keeps his mouth shut about it and nods instead. 

Eventually Will falls back asleep in his arms, and Hannibal tries to let himself sleep too, though it takes him a long time to get himself to stop thinking. 

He has spent nearly every night at Will’s house in the last month, and he knows that every night spent away from the man going forward will feel lonely. He also knows that he doesn’t want to drug Will every time he wants to display another Ripper victim. He really only wants to drug him if he really has to. But then he would only want it for one of the victims in a sounder, and he can’t do all of his displays in one night. Most take two. 

With all of that, he knows he will have to spend nights at home when he kills. One victim will be displayed on a night that he spends with Will, just so Will doesn’t see it as a possibility that Hannibal left that specific display, thus making Will think it impossible that Hannibal left any of the others. 

Only because it’s clear Will is trying to catch the Ripper. Hannibal needs Will more dependent on him being around, needs to be sure Will is in love with him, before Hannibal tells him. 

He can’t stop thinking about all of this and eventually Will wakes and moves in his arms. He looks up at Hannibal’s face and Hannibal looks back in the darkness, not even pretending to have been asleep.

* * *

“You’re still awake?” Will asks when he sees Hannibal’s eyes are still open. Will doesn’t know how long he was asleep, but he knows it must have been a while. 

“A lot to think about.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Will asks. He rearranges himself so he is face to face with Hannibal, lifts a hand to cup Hannibal’s cheek. 

“Not tonight,” Hannibal sighs. “Go back to sleep, darling.”

Will shakes his head. He’s awake now. He’ll just stay awake worrying about Hannibal for an hour if he tries to sleep now. Plus the nap earlier, along with falling asleep on the couch, has made him more awake than he has been since he got home from work. He tells Hannibal as much, then leans forward to rest their foreheads together. 

He wants to tell Hannibal he loves him, thinks it’s likely part of what Hannibal is worrying about. It’s been nearly a month since Hannibal said it to him, and Will hasn’t been able to say it back. Instead, Will just kisses him, soft and slow. One of Hannibal’s hands moves to rest on Will’s hip, then moves up his side and back down. Hannibal grips Will’s hip and deepens the kiss, earning a soft whimpering sound from Will.

Will wants more of that, more of Hannibal’s firm but gentle hands touching his body. It’s been so long since they last fucked. Will hasn’t even gotten off since the day in Hannibal’s kitchen before his appointment, and Will needs  _ something.  _

“Hannibal,” he whispers against his mouth. He grabs hold of Hannibal’s hand and moves it so Hannibal can feel Will getting hard. “Please.” 

“Will,” Hannibal breathes. It sounds like a protest, like Hannibal really is going to say no again, but then Hannibal is wrapping his arms around Will’s waist and rolling them both. He has Will laying on top of him now. He looks like he’s going to deny Will once more, but then he says, “Only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Will assures him and pushes himself up to sit on his knees, straddling Hannibal’s thighs. He pulls his t-shirt over his head and throws it onto the floor. 

He rolls his hips slightly and Hannibal makes a whining noise in the back of his throat. Hannibal’s hands settle on Will’s thighs and his fingertips creep under the hem of Will’s boxers, pushing them further up Will’s thighs. 

“You aren't going to stop me this time, are you?” Will asks. He pushes his hands under Hannibal’s sweater, running them up his stomach as he rolls his hips again, feeling Hannibal’s hard cock under his ass.

Hannibal shakes his head, swallows, then sits up. Will is almost thrown off Hannibal’s lap by the sudden movement, but Hannibal grabs him around the waist to steady him. He kisses Will, hungrier and needier than he has in weeks and Will kisses him back with just as much enthusiasm. 

When they pull apart, Hannibal pulls his sweater over his head, throws it across the room, seeming not to care where it lands, just as long as it’s no longer on him. Will laughs, pecks his cheekbone, and moves off of Hannibal so he can remove his underwear. Hannibal lays back down and lifts his hips off the bed so he can push his pants and underwear down, and kick them off.

Will is back on him the second their clothes are out of sight.

“I believe I promised you something,” Will whispers, leaning down to kiss Hannibal again. 

Hannibal gives him a wry smile and pushes his hips up against Will’s body, his cock sliding against Will’s own. “You’ll have to remind me what that was. It was so long ago.”

“By no one's fault, but your own,” Will laughs. He rests his hands on Hannibal’s chest and just sits there for a second, looking down at the man under him. He can barely see him in the dark, the only light coming from the moon through one of the open curtains. 

Will frowns and stretches his body so he can turn on the lamp on the nightstand, then he opens the drawer and pulls out the lube. He sets it down on the bed and settles back on top of Hannibal. With the lights on, he can finally get a good look at him, how he looks up at Will with so much desire and adoration. There’s a smile tugging at the corner of Hannibal’s lips. 

“If you keep looking at me like that, we will be up all night before I am even inside you,” Hannibal says. 

“You like it,” Will murmurs, leaning down to kiss Hannibal just once before picking up the lube again. “You try so hard to keep your face straight all the time, so unbothered. But when I give you attention, it all cracks. I don’t think anyone else would notice, but I see you. I see the smile you try to force down, and the twinkle in your eye.”

“You make me feel things I have never felt before,” Hannibal whispers. “You crumble all my carefully constructed walls just by looking in my direction.”

Will is so in love with him, but unable to say it. Instead he leans down for another kiss, which Hannibal takes as a chance to wrap his arms around him and roll them over. Will can’t help but laugh at how impatient Hannibal is, how he takes the lube from Will’s hand and is pressing two fingers into Will within the next twenty seconds. 

He has to bite back a yelp at the sudden intrusion, has to quickly relax himself. Hannibal seems to notice, runs his free hand up one of Will’s thighs, whispers soothing words. Will pulls him down by the back of the neck and kisses him, moaning into his mouth as Hannibal starts to scissor his fingers and stretch him. 

“I love you,” Hannibal whispers against Will’s mouth. 

And Will knows this is his chance, where he can say it back, tell Hannibal how he feels, but no. Instead he just presses his lips to Hannibal’s and tangles his fingers in the hair at the back of Hannibal’s head. 

Hannibal just kisses back in response to Will’s non-response. If Hannibal is hurt by Will not reciprocating those feelings, he doesn’t make it known. And it’s not that Will doesn’t - he just can’t say it. Because he can’t quite come to terms with the fact that he’s fallen in love with his psychiatrist. His serial killer psychiatrist. Who eats people. Will knows it’s so wrong, that he should not have let this happen, but he has. Saying it makes it real. 

Will grasps at the sheets with one hand and tugs at Hannibal’s hair with the other when Hannibal’s fingers find that spot inside him. He chokes back a moan and Hannibal leans forward to kiss him again. 

Hannibal adds a third finger as he continues to kiss Will. Will can’t help the sounds he makes into Hannibal’s mouth. He’s needed this for  _ weeks  _ now, wouldn’t even touch himself during that time. Waiting for this.

Hannibal pulls out his fingers, leaving Will feeling empty, reaching for Hannibal to come back. 

“I believe you promised me something,” Hannibal says. 

Will grins and sits up, pushing at Hannibal to lay down on the mattress. He climbs over him to sit across his thighs, takes the lube and slicks up Hannibal’s cock. 

* * *

Hannibal watches as Will pushes up on his knees, bites back a moan when Will grabs his cock and gives him a few strokes. He grips Will’s hips hard enough to bruise when Will lines the head of Hannibal’s cock to his hole, pressing down ever so slightly. 

He doesn’t dare push up into Will, allows Will to take charge of this. It takes all of his self control not to slam his hips up as Will slowly works himself open further with just the tip of Hannibal’s cock. 

“Will,” Hannibal groans. 

“Just a minute, baby. It’s been a while,” Will tells him. He takes more of Hannibal inside him, and Hannibal can only throw his head back against the pillow and grip Will’s hips tighter. 

The man above him is gorgeous, his eyes are closed, his mouth is hanging open, his hair falling into his face. Hannibal wants to pull him forward and kiss him, so he does just that, releasing his death grip on Will’s hips to sit up just enough to pull him down by the back of his neck. 

Will’s eyes open and he smiles down at Hannibal as he falls forward onto his hands, placing them on either side of Hannibal’s head. His face hangs low between his arms, catches Hannibal’s lips in a kiss. 

He takes more of Hannibal’s cock inside him, so tight around Hannibal, then pulls himself back up, until he’s almost all the way off. He slowly fucks himself on just a fraction of Hannibal’s length and Hannibal grips Will’s thighs. Without warning, Will drops all the way down, fully seating himself. 

“Fuck,” Hannibal groans. 

“That’s a first,” Will muses. 

He lifts himself halfway, before going back down, setting a quick pace that has Hannibal’s toes curling and his back arching. Will’s cock hits Hannibal’s stomach each time Will grinds down and Hannibal wants to take him in his hand, but refrains. 

Will’s hands find Hannibal’s chest, using him as leverage, gripping the hair there in his fingers. 

“Love seeing you like this,” Will says, words broken up by moans and gasps as he rides Hannibal. “The way you come undone. Fuck. You’ve been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you?”

Hannibal opens his eyes, that he didn’t know were squeezed shut, and nods frantically. 

“Me too,” Will says. “God. Those nights you went home, didn’t spend the night. I thought about this, but I wouldn’t even touch myself. I needed it to be you.”

Hannibal groans at those words. 

Will just continues talking as he continues his relentless pace, his voice breathy, but his tone airing on accusatory. “You just kept denying me. Every time I wanted you to touch me you would move my hands away, go into the other room. Move further away on the couch. Like I’d break.”

Hannibal shakes his head. A loss for words, Will’s movements making him unable to tell his real reason for denying him. Because Hannibal thought he _himself_ would break. Not used to all these feelings, not used to being vulnerable. Having been so completely unable to reign in his own emotions last time they were so intimate. 

“No?” Will asks, slowing down to a near halt, just giving slight rolls of his hips. 

It’s possible that the slowed down pace is meant as punishment, but it allows Hannibal to finally form a coherent thought and put it to words, Hannibal pulls in a breath, then says. “No. It was not you I was worried about breaking. Your health is important to me, yes. That wasn’t all of it.”

“Please enlighten me, doctor,” Will says, continuing to roll his hips. There’s an amusement in his voice, a bit of disbelief that Hannibal was any other reason for the accusations Will has thrown at him. Playful. 

Hannibal takes a breath and swallows, then says, “It’s myself I am worried about breaking, not you. I’m not used to these feelings. Sex has never meant anything to me until you. I am not used to laying myself bare and vulnerable, especially not with someone as adept at seeing me as you.”

Will makes a humming noise in his throat, somewhat skeptical, but not entirely. Hannibal is not lying about himself, but Will’s health and mental stability is definitely a factor, and he knows Will knows that. Hannibal reaches up and pushes Will’s hair away from his eyes, then cups Will’s cheek. 

“Beautiful,” Hannibal whispers. Will’s skin appears gold in the lamplight, and Hannibal wants to bury his face in Will’s neck and mark the skin, to bite and suck. His eyes are still so tired and it’s so endearing, the way he looks soft and relaxed. The soft noises he makes as he continues to roll his hips cause warmth to spread through Hannibal’s chest. Will’s lips are red from kissing and Hannibal wants to kiss him even more.

Will falls forward and presses their chests together, nuzzles his face into the crook of Hannibal’s neck, along his throat and jaw, leaving light kisses. Hannibal can sense the mood shift, no longer needy and desperate, Will no longer making vocal jabs at Hannibal for making them wait. 

Hannibal holds Will tight to his chest, moves his hands from Will’s back to his hips. He helps guide Will’s movements, but doesn’t use any force in doing so, just an encouraging touch. Will’s cock is trapped between their stomachs, leaving a smear of pre-come on Hannibal’s.

“Will,” Hannibal whispers. 

“Mm?” Will hums as he noses along Hannibal’s jaw. He moves his face to lightly kiss Hannibal’s lips. 

Hannibal wraps his arms around Will’s waist and rolls them over so Hannibal is over him.

“Okay?” Hannibal asks, leaning down to kiss Will as he thrusts slowly into Will’s body. 

Will nods and pulls his knees up higher, then wraps his legs high around Hannibal’s waist. He squeezes Hannibal tight around his torso with those strong legs. 

From this position, Hannibal can see the clock on the nightstand. It’s nearly three. Neither of them are going to get a sufficient amount of sleep, but Hannibal feels no need to rush this. Will pushes Hannibal’s hair out of his face now, then moves his hand to rest on the back of Hannibal’s neck. 

* * *

Will loves him. Beyond belief. He is in love with a murderer. And he can’t find an ounce of disgust in himself over that fact. Just so much adoration towards the man on top of him, and an odd sense of safety. Will can’t help but laugh at the thought, a breathy laugh that turns into a moan as Hannibal shifts the angle of his thrusts. He squeezes his legs tighter around Hannibal’s body, grips the man’s hair tight between his fingers, but doesn’t pull. 

“What’s funny?” Hannibal murmurs in response to Will’s laugh. He leans down and kisses Will’s forehead, then his lips. 

“Everything,” Will says, as if that explains it at all.

Hannibal pulls back to look down at him, his head tilted in question. 

“I was,” Will starts, then pauses, trying to think of how he wants to word this. He laughs nervously then starts again, “I was just thinking about how you are a murderer, and yet I feel  _ safe  _ with you somehow. I have to be crazy.” 

Hannibal smiles down at him. “No crazier than I.”

Will lets out a laugh. “That’s really reassuring. Thank you, baby.”

Hannibal hums and leans down to bury his face in Will’s neck. Will knows what he is about to do before his lips even make contact with the sensitive skin on his neck. Then Hannibal’s lips are sucking, his teeth are nipping and biting and Will has half a mind to push him away, but the other half of his mind wins out. 

Every emotion from Hannibal has been spilling out the entire time, and he knows how much Hannibal loves him, loves marking his skin. Claiming him. Without the fever, without so much exhaustion, it is so much easier for Will to accept everything Hannibal gives him. With their relationship developing, more honesty between them, it has gotten easier. He is glad for it, that their intimacy is not plagued by self doubt and tears this time.

He’s going to be covered in marks and beyond exhausted during his lectures later, but it’s all worth it. All worth it because Hannibal is moaning against his skin, and Will likes to hear it, likes to hear Hannibal lose himself to his pleasure. All worth it because all the walls built around Hannibal crumble with every touch Will gives him, every time Will  _ looks  _ at him. Will wants it to be this way forever.

Will drags his nails down Hannibal’s back, which only causes Hannibal to bite down harder over each spot of Will’s neck. Hannibal’s thrusts pick up the pace, and Hannibal continues to suck at Will’s throat as one hand makes its way between their bodies. 

Will arches his back as Hannibal’s hand wraps around his cock and strokes him as he thrusts into him, each thrust hitting his prostate in a way that makes everything too much and then he’s spilling over Hannibal’s hand and his own stomach. He clenches down hard around Hannibal’s cock and throws his head back against the pillow as Hannibal continues to stroke him through his orgasm.

Hannibal pulls out and Will just looks up at him, confused as to why Hannibal stopped, but then Hannibal takes himself in his own hand and gives his cock a few final strokes before he’s moaning out Will’s name as he comes on Will’s cock and stomach. Will had hoped Hannibal would finish inside him, but he supposes it’s less cleanup to worry about this way, so he doesn’t voice his disappointment.

“Fuck,” Hannibal breathes as he falls forward, placing his clean hand on the pillow beside Will’s head. His other hand rests on Will’s stomach, covered in both of their releases. 

“I don’t think I’ve heard you say ‘fuck’ before tonight,” Will laughs, pushing himself up on his elbows so he can kiss Hannibal on the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t think you  _ could  _ swear, actually. And here you are doing it twice in one night.”

“I prefer not to,” Hannibal says after a few more deep breaths. “You make me do awful things, Will Graham.”

“I’ll be sure to tell everyone you know that I am probably the only person to get you to say fuck,” Will laughs.

Hannibal leans down and kisses him once before getting out of bed and disappearing around the corner. Will can hear the water running in the bathroom, then Hannibal comes back with a cloth, gently wiping Will down. Will watches him, eyes beginning to grow heavy as Hannibal takes his time.

It becomes apparent that Hannibal is just taking his time because he wants to keep touching Will, and keep looking at him, but Will is tired, so he swats at Hannibal’s hand. He pushes at Hannibal to get off the bed, and Hannibal laughs quietly. 

“Put that in the laundry basket and come lay down,” Will says. He pulls the blankets over him and watches Hannibal cross the room to the laundry basket, then drop the washcloth into it. Hannibal keeps walking off toward the kitchen and Will groans. “Now what?” 

He flops down on his back on the mattress and waits for Hannibal to come back. When he does, Will is handed a cup of tea, while Hannibal holds one of his own. 

“Chamomile,’ Hannibal says, settling down in bed next to Will. “It should help both of us sleep.”

“I don’t need any help sleeping. You wore me out,” Will says, but he drinks the tea anyways. Because Hannibal made it for him, and because he loves Hannibal. 

It’s nearly four by the time Hannaibal takes both cups back to the kitchen and finally lays down and gets under the blankets. Will knows he’s going to be tired when he wakes up in just a few hours, but he isn’t going to regret finally getting back to this point between him and Hannibal. 

“I think I might take your advice,” Will murmurs. Hannibal rolls over and rests his head on Will’s shoulder, splays a hand across Will’s stomach. 

“Which advice was that?” Hannibal asks. He kisses Will’s collarbone, the noses at his neck like a cat. 

“Cutting down on lectures. Maybe one a day instead of three,” Will shrugs. “At least until winter break. It’s only a few weeks away. I’ll go back to a more normal schedule when the next term starts.”

“Hm. Likely a good idea,” Hannibal whispers. “Did you have plans for your break?” 

“No,” Will says. “Maybe I’ll work a few cases. I don’t know.”

“Christmas plans?” Hannibal asks. 

“No Christmas plans.”

“I don’t suppose I could convince you to spend it with me, could I?” Hannibal asks. 

“It’s hard to say, Doctor Lecter,” Will whispers. “Maybe I want to stay home alone with the dogs and drink the day away.”

“I would be more than happy to join you.”

“You? Get drunk with me on Christmas?” Will laughs. Then, sarcastically, “Right.”

“I am completely serious. I would like to spend the holiday with you,” Hannibal says. His words catch on a yawn and Will brings a hand up to rub at Hannibal’s back. 

“And what would you have planned for the day, if not that?” Will asks. 

“Have dinner with you Christmas Eve, wake up on Christmas morning together. Whether here or at my house. I would make you breakfast. Exchange gifts if you’d be inclined,” Hannibal lists off. “Though, we could forgo all of that to inebriate ourselves on your cheap whiskey together, if that’s what you would prefer.”

“Both?” Will suggests. 

“We can do both,” Hannibal agrees. He yawns again, and Will decides for both of them that it’s time for bed. He shifts under Hannibal to be able to reach the lamp switch and turns it off, leaving the room in darkness. 

“Goodnight, Hannibal,” Will whispers.  _ I love you,  _ he almost adds. 

“Goodnight, darling,” Hannibal whispers back. He nuzzles his face into the bare skin of Will’s chest, wraps an arm around Will’s waist, and pulls him closer. Will just lets him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments, tell me what you think, what you like, don't like, anything! It's all appreciated.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say that I am very happy with the response to this fic. And we've surpassed 100k words! And I still have so much to write! And if you have not seen, I've started a [new post-finale fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29284659/chapters/71913174) as well. It likely won't be as long as this one by a long shot, but if you're reading this, maybe go give that one a kudos and a comment, as well. 
> 
> As always, leave comments on this!! I appreciate them all and get so happy seeing them in my inbox.

As expected, morning comes too quick. And while Will still feels like it was worth it, he does almost regret it. When his alarm goes off (his real alarm, because he shut off his early one before falling asleep), he groans loud and buries his face into Hannibal’s stomach. 

“No more middle-of-the-night sex,” Will says, muffled by where his mouth is pressed to Hannibal’s skin. He rolls away and lays on his back beside Hannibal. “God, why did we do that?”

Hannibal laughs next to him and rolls over onto his side. Will looks over at him, hair in his face, a tired smile on his lips. Will turns on his side and faces Hannibal, presses in close so their mouths are only an inch apart. 

“Should we both just call in sick today?” Will asks. 

“We should not. I do have a twenty-four hour cancellation policy,” Hannibal responds. He pushes the hair out of Will’s eyes, then kisses his forehead.

“You’ve cancelled less than twenty-four hours before,” Will points out.

“There are exceptions to every rule, but I do believe sex at three in the morning falls under the saying, ‘you play, you pay,’ does it not?” Hannibal says with a smirk.

Will groans again. “I guess so.”

He sits up and looks down at Hannibal, who just lays in the bed, blankets pooled around his hips. 

“Shower?” Will asks with a yawn. 

Hannibal nods and sits up, too. “Or we could skip a shower and sleep for twenty more minutes,” he says.

“What happened to you not needing as much sleep as a normal person?” Will asks. Still he lays back down on his stomach and puts his chin on Hannibal’s blanket-covered thigh. 

“You have changed me,” Hannibal whispers, running a hand through Will’s hair. 

Will moves around in the bed, feeling the nice sheets on his bare skin. Hannibal runs a hand down Will’s back, over the curve of his ass. 

“Are you sore this morning?” Hannibal asks. 

“Mm. A bit. Not too bad,” Will says. Hannibal’s fingers start to roam and Will knows exactly where he’s planning to go, so he rolls over and sits up, shielding his ass from Hannibal. “Do not.”

Hannibal smiles at him, then leans forward to kiss him before getting out of the bed. Will lays back down on his back and he hears the shower start running. 

He allows himself to lay there for ten more seconds before he’s hauling himself out of bed and toward the bathroom. He opens the door and Hannibal peeks around the shower curtain, wet hair dripping onto the bathroom floor. 

Will brushes his teeth first, then gets into the shower behind Hannibal. Will wraps his arms around Hannibal from behind and rests his head between his shoulder blades. 

“Fuck. I’m tired,” Will sighs. The water barely hits him, Hannibal getting most of it, but the drops that do are warm against his skin. He feels like he could curl up on the floor and go back to sleep.

“I know, darling,” Hannibal says. He lays a hand over Will’s, which are classed together on his stomach. “I should tell you that I won’t be returning tonight.” 

Will frowns against his back. “Okay. You have a hot date?”

Hannibal laughs. “I wish, but no. Some preparation for what I am doing this weekend.”

“Murder,” Will says. 

“Yes.”

“What night are you doing that?” Will asks. He lets go of Hannibal and reaches for the soap so he can actually start washing himself. 

Hannibal turns to face him. “Saturday night.”

“That’s… that’s the night we’re going out and I’m staying over.”

“Yes,” Hannibal says. “I will only be gone for a few hours.” 

“Am I just coming over to confirm your alibi if the police knock on your door in the morning?” Will asks, somewhat offended. A little more than somewhat. “Jesus, Hannibal. You really know how to plan a date.”

“That’s not the only reason, my love. If you don’t want to spend the night, that is okay. I would like for you to, though.”

“Ha! Yeah, you’re just saying that to placate me,” Will scoffs. He takes a breath, knowing he’s just going to say something he regrets if he doesn’t relax. He knew Hannibal was a killer before their first date. He should have known this type of thing would happen.

Hannibal leans down and kisses Will’s forehead.

“I have upset you,” Hannibal murmurs. 

“No, no. It’s fine, Hannibal. Really,” Will says. “I’ll stay over and I’ll vouch for you if anyone asks.”

“I can postpone. We can have a nice night on Saturday,” Hannibal offers. He pulls Will into a wet hug and says, “We can have sex in the middle of the night with nowhere to be in the morning. Or we can just be in each other’s presence.” 

Will laughs into his chest. “I would actually like that, I think.”

“Mm. Then I won’t kill this weekend,” Hannibal whispers into Will’s hair. “Which means I can come over tonight if you would like me to.”

Will shakes his head. “Go home and get some sleep tonight. I could use a night to myself.” 

“Very well. But if you change your mind, do call.”

“Okay,” Will agrees. 

* * *

Hannibal has no idea why he actually agrees to postpone his kill. He doesn’t have a compulsion, rather treats it like one would a hobby. Like painting or knitting. But he does enjoy it enough to not want to stop. And he’s running low on meat.

But Will was upset with the idea of Hannibal killing during their night together. Which really puts a pause on his plans, as he really hates to see Will upset. He doesn’t want to ruin what they have over something he does not _need_ to do. 

And even though Hannibal solved the thing that made Will upset, Will doesn’t want to see him tonight now that he’s free. Which must mean Will is still upset. 

“Were you really going to fuck me again?” Will asks when they step out of the shower. “Or were you just being an ass?”

Somewhat surprised by the question, he just looks at Will for a second. It takes him a second to remember what Will is referring to, then he smiles. 

“I was going to finger you until you came on your sheets, actually,” Hannibal says. He reaches for his toothbrush as Will just stands there, mouth gaping in surprise. Hannibal lifts a hand to Will’s chin to push his mouth closed. “Unfortunately we don’t have time anymore.”

“No I guess not. I shouldn’t have asked, now I’ll just think about it all day,” Will mumbles. 

Hannibal spits his toothpaste into the sink. “As I said, if you change your mind about wanting to be alone tonight, just call.”

“I won’t change my mind,” Will says. He walks out into the hall and towards his dresser as Hannibal continues to do his routine in the bathroom. Will calls out from the other room, “I like having you here, but it’s starting to feel like you live here.”

“Is that such a problem?” Hannibal asks. 

“Yes,” Will says. 

Hannibal frowns as he starts to shave his face. When he finally wipes his skin clean and steps into the other room, Will is fully dressed and heading toward the kitchen to start the coffee. 

After getting dressed quickly, Hannibal follows Will into the kitchen and checks the clock on the stove to see if they have time for breakfast. When he sees that they do, Hannibal starts pulling out eggs and sausage to cook. 

Will leaves to take care of the dogs, and comes back a few minutes later. 

“I wasn’t aware you didn’t like me spending so much time here,” Hannibal says quietly. 

“I asked you to stay last night,” Will says. “I wouldn’t have if I didn’t want you here.”

Hannibal doesn’t respond to that. He just starts cooking their food. Will sighs and comes to stand behind Hannibal at the stove, wraps his arms around Hannibal’s waist and rests his head against his back. 

“I like having you here,” Will whispers. He rubs his face between Hannibal’s shoulder blades as he says it. “I just think… We are relying too heavily on each other.”

Hannibal waits, knowing Will is going to continue explaining himself. He ignores the feeling of the man pressed to his back in order to focus on making breakfast. 

“We don’t live together. There’ll be times when I need to go out of town, or you’ll have things to do, and I don’t want to _need_ you,” Will says finally. “I miss you when you’re gone, and I need to get used to that feeling. And to do that, I need to sleep alone some nights.”

Hannibal turns off the burner and Will steps away to get plates, bringing them back so Hannibal can serve them their eggs and sausage. 

Finally, Hannibal says, “You're right.” 

“And you’re upset,” Will says. 

Hannibal turns to look at him, adjusts Will’s glasses so he can see his eyes. 

“I am not upset,” Hannibal tells him. “I know you are correct and that we need to spend some time away from each other once in a while. I have no right to be upset as I was not even planning on coming over tonight, but then the possibility that I am able made me hopeful.”

“I’m sorry,” Will whispers. He grabs his plate and quickly moves to sit at the kitchen table. 

“Don’t be,” Hannibal says. He sets his own plate down, then gets them both cups of coffee. He reaches across the table when he sits down and takes Will’s hand in one of his own while he starts to eat with his other. “I’m not upset.”

“Okay. Don’t come over tonight, but, maybe tomorrow?” Will offers. 

Hannibal shakes his head. “I have a late appointment tomorrow. I usually do on Wednesdays, I’ve told you that.”

“Right. Yeah, I knew that,” Will sighs. “So I’ll see you Thursday then?” 

“Of course,” Hannibal says. “And Saturday.”

“No Friday?”

“Friday morning if you stay over Thursday night.”

Will shakes his head. “The dogs won’t be happy with me. And I won’t be happy with myself having to wake up that early.”

“No, of course not,” Hannibal says. 

Hannibal can hide all of his disappointment from everyone, but never from Will. Will squeezes his hand in his own and looks at him across the table.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says. 

And of course, that one word, _baby,_ is enough to put a smile on Hannibal’s face. He has got it bad. Hannibal has never been big on being called pet names with other partners, has never been big on that one especially, but _Will._

“What are you doing Friday night then?”

“I am having a small dinner party,” Hannibal answers. “Fairly last minute, but a few friends reached out to me saying they’ll be in town for a conference.”

“Oh,” Will says. 

“You can come,” Hannibal offers. “I didn’t know if it would be something you would like to do.”

“Probably not,” Will sighs. He takes a sip of coffee. “How many people?”

“Just four besides myself.”

“Okay. I’ll come,” Will says. “If you want me to?” 

“Of course, my love. You can wear that suit I bought you quite some time ago,” Hannibal says. He checks his watch. “Oh, we should go soon.”

“I’ll see if I can get a sitter for the dogs and stay the weekend if you’re okay with that,” Will says quietly. “Say no if you aren’t.”

“I am okay with that.”

Will nods and releases Hannibal’s hand, then stands to take his plate to the sink. It’s apparent that Will is still upset with him, but the reason evades Hannibal. He solved the murder schedule issue, he invited Will to his dinner. He doesn’t know what more he can do. 

Hannibal decides that Will just needs some space and does not want to fully ask for it. Will said he doesn’t want to need Hannibal. So, Hannibal will give him that space until Will does decide he wants to need Hannibal. 

* * *

After kisses goodbye, they get into their separate cars and go off to their jobs. Will walks into his lecture hall with a few minutes to spare, so he checks his email, answers a few questions from students then begins teaching.

There’s a chime of text alert halfway through his second lecture and he has to apologize for not putting his phone on silent. After the class is dismissed, he sees the message is from Beverly, asking him to stop by the lab. 

So he goes. 

“What have we got here?” Jimmy asks when Will walks in. “Sweet William, what has happened to your neck?”

Will brings a hand to cover the marks and gives him a sheepish smile. “My partner spent the night.”

He can see Beverly smirking at him from where she stands next to a body. 

“She's an animal!” Brian calls out. Why Brian keeps assuming Will is with a woman is beyond him. 

“Yeah, he is,” Will says. 

“So, Will, when you are going to tell us more about this mystery man?” Jimmy asks with an eyebrow raised.

Will clears his throat. “Why did you need me down here?”

Beverly smiles. “We didn’t. Jimmy caught wind your neck was covered in hickeys and asked if I could get you down here so he could see.”

“Why didn’t you just come to my lecture hall?”

“And make a big deal out of it in front of your trainees? Come on, Will, I’m not that evil,” Jimmy says. 

“And how did you catch wind?” Will asks. 

“Trainees were talking about it in the hall,” Jimmy shrugs. “They can’t believe you fuck.”

“They really said that?” Will asks with a groan. 

“Sure did,” Jimmy answers. “Though, I can’t imagine why they would think you don’t. You’re a pretty man.”

“Thanks,” Will mutters. “I better go.”

“Hey, Will wait up,” Beverly calls, following him out into the hall. “What are you doing this weekend?”

“Dinner party with Hannibal on Friday night, some art gallery on Saturday. Why?” 

“I was wondering if you wanted to hang out and tell me all about... Everything. I’ll take a rain check, though.”

Will frowns. He’d like to hang out with Beverly. It’s been a while since he’s seen anyone besides Hannibal, and every time he did see someone else it was cut short by him needing a nap. 

“I could probably make Saturday afternoon work. I’m spending the night at his house Friday night and Saturday night, but our plans don’t interfere with Saturday afternoon,” Will says. “We could get lunch.”

“Okay, sure. Give me a call if anything changes,” Beverly says. 

Will nods and heads back to his lecture hall for his last class of the day. He sits down and writes out emails seeing if it would be possible to get a few of his lectures covered over the next two weeks while he continues to recover. 

He finds himself really wanting a nap as he sits, waiting for his next class to start. More importantly, a nap with Hannibal. 

Defeated, he calls Hannibal after his last lecture. Despite all of his insistence that he would not change his mind, he calls. 

“Hey, baby. You’re probably in an appointment right now,” Will says when the phone goes to voicemail. He sits in the driver’s seat of his car, shivering while he waits for it to warm up.“I, uh, I changed my mind. I figure since we won’t see each other tomorrow and I can't stay over on Thursday…” he trails off. “Anyways. If you want to come over tonight, you can. I want you to. Even if just for a little bit,” a pause. “Actually, that would be better. Just… for dinner maybe. And then you can go home and actually get some sleep without me trying to fuck you in the middle of the night,” Will laughs. “Give me a call. If I don’t answer, I might be asleep… you can still come, just let yourself in.” 

He ends the call and throws his phone onto the passenger seat of his car. When he gets home, he still hasn’t received a response, and after the dogs are taken care of, he changes into pajamas and crawls into bed. Exhausted. 

His phone rings on his nightstand and he wakes to it, checking the caller ID before answering. 

“Hey, Hannibal,” he mumbles. 

“Did I wake you?” Hannibal asks. 

“Mm. Yeah. It’s okay,” Will says. He runs at his eyes and looks outside to see the sun has already set. “Did you get my message?”

“I did, but unfortunately Jack asked to have dinner tonight,” Hannibal says. “I accepted before I listened to your message.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Will says, trying to hide his disappointment. “I’ll see you on Thursday, then.”

“Yes,” Hannibal says. “How did today treat you?”

“Fine. Got called down to the lab so Jimmy could ask about the marks on my neck. I’m doing less lectures until break, too. Got that settled.”

“Good. What did Mr Price have to say about your neck?” 

Will laughs, recalling the conversation. “The trainees can’t believe I fuck, and Jimmy said he doesn’t understand why, then called me pretty. You might have competition, baby.”

“I would sure hope not,” Hannibal says. 

“Brian thinks I’m seeing a woman,” Will says. “I’ve never hidden being bisexual, but I guess he’s never really caught on. You know something?”

“Hm?”

“I thought Jimmy and Brian were together when I met them. Have you seen them working together?”

“I have. They seem quite close,” Hannibal says. “Are they not together?”

“I have no fucking idea,” Will laughs. “Nobody mentions it.”

“Mm, peculiar. I should let you get back to sleep.”

“No, no. I, um, can you stay on the phone a bit longer? How was your day?” Will asks. 

“Long,” Hannibal sighs. “I nearly fell asleep during all of my appointments.”

“I’m not sorry,” Will says. “You felt really good last night. I needed that.”

“As did I, my love. Just tiring. I am not as young as I used to be,” Hannibal says.

“You’re not old,” Will laughs. “Anyway. I don’t want to keep you if you have plans. And if we keep talking about last night I might get in my car and drive to your house, so I should probably hang up.”

“I have time if you want to keep talking,” Hannibal offers. 

“No, that’s okay,” Will says. He looks across the room. “The dogs are staring at me, so I should probably see what they want.”

“Of course,” Hannibal says. “We can talk tomorrow if you want, but I will let you go for now. I love you.”

“I,” Will starts. “Goodnight, Hannibal.”

Hannibal hangs up first and Will whispers, “I love you too,” to himself. He had been so close to saying it, but he just could not make it happen. 

He feeds the dogs, and then feeds himself. He showers, then gets back into bed, so exhausted still. 

The nightmare feels worse than all the others, far scarier, but he can’t remember it when he wakes up. Shaking, nearly sobbing, he reaches in the dark for Hannibal, but remembers he isn’t there. 

Rusty and Winston both pop their heads up form where they lay on the floor and Will pats the edge of his bed. Both dogs get up and walk over, their nails clicking on the hardwood. Rusty curls up on Hannibal’s pillow, and Winston curls up right next to Will. 

For a second, he thinks about calling Hannibal, but shakes the thought. Hannibal needs sleep, not a middle of the night phone call because Will had a nightmare. 

He gets out of bed on shaking legs and goes over to the laundry basket, pulling out one of Hannibal’s worn sweaters. He brings it to his nose, inhaling the familiar scent, then he pulls it on over his t-shirt and gets back into bed, pulling the covers tight around him. 

Wednesday he wears the sweater to work, and Alana raises an eyebrow at him when she comes in to ask him something. 

“Whose sweater is that?” Alana asks. 

“Mine,” Will responds. But he knows the marks on his neck are still on display, the sweater is large on his frame. “What did you need Alana?”

“I’ll be taking over a few of your lectures over the next few weeks. I was wondering how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine, just… Doctor Lecter suggested I ease back into teaching rather than going back in head first. I’m tired a lot,” Will tells her. 

She nods sympathetically, says something about recovery not being linear, then she leaves. 

When Will goes home after just two lectures, he gets into bed and calls Hannibal, who doesn’t answer. 

“You’re probably with a patient,” Will sighs when the call goes to voicemail. “I miss you and I’m going to lay down for a while. Call me tonight if you want.”

He falls asleep and when he wakes up a few hours later, a text from earlier on his phone from Hannibal. 

_I have a lot of work to do tonight, so it would be unwise for me to call, but I will see you tomorrow. Sleep well, my love._

It’s somewhat disappointing. Surely Hannibal could spare five minutes for a phone call, but Will pretends it doesn’t bother him. 

The rest of the night is spent in front of the TV, dogs surrounding him. 

Will shows up for therapy on Thursday, gives Hannibal a quick kiss at the door, as they agreed upon, then follows him into his office. 

They settle into their opposite chairs and Hannibal looks tense, uncomfortable. Will doesn’t mention it, and figures he’s just taking their professionalism agreement seriously. His eyes look sad, and Will decides Hannibal must just be tired. He doesn’t ask. 

Will stands and walks over to the window, watching as snow lightly falls outside.

“I had a nightmare Tuesday night,” he says after a moment.

“Did you want to talk about it?” Hannibal asks. 

Will sighs and walks back toward Hannibal, then decides to sit in the chair at his desk instead. He looks at Hannibal and sees him shift in his seat, then adjust his suit jacket. Annoyed. _Why is he annoyed?_

It’s not like Will is just some random patient sitting in his desk chair. They have keys to each other’s houses. It shouldn’t matter, but for some reason it seems to. Will stays put, trying to see if Hannibal will mention it at all. 

“I don’t remember it. Rusty came and slept on your pillow afterwards, and Winston slept pressed against me. I put on one of your sweaters just so I could fall back asleep,” Will says. Hannibal frowns and Will sighs. “These sessions are a bad idea, aren’t they?”

“No, Will. I just need to try being more objective than I want to be,” Hannibal says. 

“Well, what do you _want_ to say?” Will asks. 

“That I wish I could have been there when you woke up. So I could have whispered into your hair while you tried to stop trembling, and then held you against my chest until you fell back asleep,” Hannibal tells him. He gets up, crosses the room and perches on the desk, right next to where Will sits in the chair. “But if you were my patient, telling me about a partner… I would suggest you and your partner are likely on your way to fostering codependency.” 

Will sighs. “Well, doctor, what do you suggest me and my partner do?” 

“I really can’t answer that question,” Hannibal says. “I’m far too selfish.”

Will laughs quietly. “Last night I was okay,” he offers. “Just the nights when I’m alone and have those nightmares. Sometimes I want to call you, but I would rather one of us get some sleep.” 

Hannibal frowns and Will feels that tension again. Something is wrong, and Will doesn’t know what, and it is starting to worry him. 

“Is everything okay with you?” Will asks softly. 

“I have had a long day,” Hannibal sighs. “I know I promised you dinner after this, but,” he says, trailing off with a shrug. “I would rather go home and go to bed after I finish up here.”

“Hey, baby. It’s okay, don’t exhaust yourself more for me,” Will soothes. He puts a hand on Hannibal’s knee and rubs his thumb along the fabric of his pants. “You’re okay, otherwise, though?”

“Just tired.” Hannibal picks Will’s hand off of his knee and sets it down on the desk, only letting his own hand linger for a second before they’re no longer touching. 

Will leans forward and rests his head on Hannibal’s thigh and Hannibal drops his hand to Will’s hair. 

“This isn’t professional,” Hannibal murmurs. He moves his hand away after just a second, and Will knows he’s overstepping their agreed upon boundaries. He can’t help it.

“No. But I’ve missed you,” Will sighs. Still, he stands and walks back to the armchairs and sits down in his, waiting for Hannibal to follow. 

When Hannibal is settled across from him, he crosses his legs and looks at Will. 

“This is your hour, of course,” Hannibal says. “Though, perhaps we talk about something other than our sleeping arrangements.”

“Yeah,” Will says. “Field work, then.”

“Field work,” Hannibal agrees. 

A safe topic. 

“When I go back, I have a feeling Jack’s gonna want some sort of supervision on me,” Will says. “To see what was encephalitis and what parts of me are just crazy.” 

“We discussed that possibility over dinner, yes. Not in so many words, of course.”

“I suppose not,” Will says. “What was the decision on that?”

“I am going to be accompanying you to crime scenes. Just the first few cases you work on,” Hannibal says. “I won’t be taking many appointments for that time period, just in case we go out of town. Only those who are okay with flexibility. The rest of my patients will be referred, but can choose to come back to me after that period.”

“You can’t just… stop working to babysit me,” Will protests. 

“I personally do not see it that way,” Hannibal counters. “And truth be told, I could live comfortably without my practice for quite some time.”

There is something Will has been thinking about lately, and he feels as though now would be as good a time as any to bring it up. Not that how he feels is how he’s going to act, but he knows Hannibal will listen.

“I don’t even want to do field work,” he says quietly. “It’s not good for me.”

“No, it most certainly isn’t. Not going into the minds of killers, at least. Consulting isn’t as hard on you,” Hannibal says. “Do you think you would stop?”

“No,” Will says. “It would… benefit us if I keep doing it.”

Why, goes left unsaid. Will knows Hannibal knows what he means, that Will doing field work and consulting work can help keep the FBI off of Hannibal’s trail. 

Hannibal just gives him a nod and Will changes the subject. 

“Do you think the Ripper is going to come back soon?” 

Once again, Will watches Hannibal shift uncomfortably in his chair and Will really cannot figure out why Hannibal is acting this way. 

“It’s possible. Would you want to be on the case if he did?” Hannibal asks after a moment. 

“I’m not sick anymore, so, maybe,” Will shrugs. “Last sounder was just… weird for me. I went to the scenes because I was upset with you and upset with myself.”

“You were feeling self destructive,” Hannibal says. 

“Yeah,” Will agrees. He scratches at the back of his neck nervously, then, “I wasn’t like… going to hurt myself or anything, but I was feeling… I didn’t feel the need to take care of myself.”

Hannibal frowns slightly and Will wants to close the distance and sit down in his lap, kiss him until the frown goes away and he’s not so distant. Instead he just stays where he is. He doesn’t mention it. Because Hannibal said he’s tired, and they both agreed to be professional. 

They don’t say much else for the rest of the session, and when they stand for Will to leave, Will kisses Hannibal once on the cheek at the door. 

“What time should I come over tomorrow?” Will asks. 

“Six o’clock should work just fine,” Hannibal says with a weak smile. “Wear the suit I bought you. Let yourself in when you get there, I will likely be busy in the kitchen.”

“Okay. And I didn’t get a sitter for the dogs, so I’ll be leaving Saturday morning and coming back in the afternoon,” Will tells him. “I’ll be having lunch with Bev on Saturday. You can come with me if you want.”

“We’ll see,” Hannibal murmurs. He kisses Will lightly on the lips, then opens the door for him. “I would walk you out, but I have a few things to finish up before I leave.”

“It’s alright,” Will says. He puts his hand on Hannibal’s cheek, rubs his thumb over the bone, then turns to go, pulling his jacket on as he walks out through the waiting room. 

Hannibal being distant, cancelling their dinner plans, giving Will the lightest kiss as he left. All of that gives Will a weird feeling. The distance makes more sense, because they agreed, but the kiss, and the dinner plans… that was all separate. He didn’t even walk Will to his car, not that Will needs an escort, but it would have been _nice._

Will goes home and worries about it for the rest of the night. His dreams are plagued by the idea that Hannibal doesn’t want him anymore, and is trying to push him away before inevitably breaking up with him. Because he knows that Hannibal knows about his insecurities and wouldn’t be distant if not for good reason. 

When it’s clear he’s not getting any sleep, Will gets out of bed and sits on the porch in the cold, watching the snow fall. The first snow of the season, nothing that will stick to the ground, but still coming down. The moon is bright, lights up the fields, but there are shadows out there. Shadows that are moving in the dark. 

Will shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. The encephalitis is nearly cleared up, he doesn’t think he should be having any sort of hallucinations. When he opens his eyes again, he looks out again and the shadows are still moving. Will realizes it’s a family of deer, moving slowly through his field, watching him to see if he moves at all. 

When Will stands, the deer dart off into the woods. He goes back inside and puts on one of Hannibal’s sweaters, then curls up under his blankets. He stays awake until his alarm goes off. 

Only one lecture he has to give today, but he decided to keep his early morning one, and keep his office hours. He’ll sleep for a few hours when he gets home, he decides. 

He gets through his day, doesn’t see anyone other than trainees, which he’s glad about because he’s fucking exhausted, then he goes home and naps until he has to get up and get ready. 

In his suit, he feels uncomfortable and too dressed up, but he still wears it. Adjusts his tie so it’s straight, wears the waist coat even though he doesn’t want to, and pulls on the suit jacket. He attempts to tame his hair, but it’s gotten quite long over the last month and a half, so it mostly just stays as it is. 

If Hannibal has a problem with his appearance, he can fix it, Will decides. So, he leaves a bit early so he can get there before six. He gets there at fifteen to six, and lets himself in with his key. Hannibal isn’t in the kitchen, so he calls out to him. 

“Upstairs!” Hannibal calls back. 

Will follows his voice up to the bedroom and sees Hannibal in front of a mirror, adjusting his tie. Will stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Hannibal stays in front of the mirror. 

“We’re matching,” Will points out, seeing Hannibal’s dark blue suit, with black shirt, dark blue and black tie, and blue waistcoat. Much like Will’s black suit with blue waistcoat and tie. 

“So we are,” Hannibal murmurs. He checks his watch. “You’re early.”

“Wanted to make sure I looked okay to your standards,” Will says. “When are your guests arriving?” 

“Quarter after six.”

“Do they know we’re together?” 

“I did not mention you were coming, but I will be introducing you as my partner,” Hannibal says, glancing over at Will. There’s a smile in his eyes, though none on his lips. 

Will doesn’t really know how to take that. 

“Well, do I look okay? Anything you want to change?” Will asks, realizing he never got a comment about that. 

“You look wonderful, darling,” Hannibal says. He walks over and kisses Will’s cheek, then his forehead. He doesn’t kiss Will’s lips, and Will wants to grab him by the face and kiss him. Hannibal still seems reserved like he did last night. Distant. Even though it has only been a few minutes since Will’s arrived, he has picked up on that. 

And that makes Will nervous. Like Hannibal is just waiting to give him bad news, or something. They’ve barely talked since Tuesday morning, besides their session, and Will wonders if Hannibal is still upset he had to postpone his murder that he had planned for tonight. 

Will doesn’t ask because Hannibal is slipping past him in the doorway, grabbing his hand and pulling him along. Will drops his overnight bag down on the floor, just inside the doorway, then allows Hannibal to pull him from the room. 

“I only have a few more things to do. Did you want a glass of wine while you wait?” Hannibal asks, pushing Will to sit in the armchair in the corner. Hannibal takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over the arm of the chair next to Will, then starts rolling up his shirt sleeves. Will has to ignore how attractive the man looks, averts his eyes to the ceiling, and takes a deep breath. 

“Sure. I can get it myself,” Will says, starting to stand, but Hannibal shakes his head. He’s handing Will a glass only a moment later, then going back to the counter to work on the food. 

Will watches him move around the kitchen, plating different foods, cutting tomatoes to look like roses. Everything he does looks planned and rehearsed. 

It’s all so distracting that, when the doorbell rings, he realizes he’s been sitting there for twenty minutes and has barely touched his wine. Hannibal gives him a smile, kisses the top of his head when he retrieves his suit jacket, then leaves the kitchen. Will gets up and sets his glass on the counter before following behind Hannibal. 

Hannibal opens the front door as Will stands behind him, a hand on Hannibal’s hip. A man and a woman step into the house, exclaiming how glad they are to see Hannibal again, how long it has been. Will stands awkwardly behind him, gripping Hannibal’s hip tight. Hannibal brings one hand down to rest on top of Will’s. 

“This is Will Graham,” Hannibal says, turning to look at Will. “Will, this is Doctor Elizabeth Matthews, and Doctor Richard Matthews.”

“Nice to meet you,” Will nods, stepping out from behind Hannibal to shake their hands. 

“You as well,” Elizabeth says. “How do you two know each other?”

“Will is my partner,” Hannibal answers. “Please, let’s step out of the doorway. Wine?” 

Both doctors nod at Hannibal and follow him off towards the kitchen. He’s out of the foyer before Will can even process he’s moved. Will follows after them and steps into the kitchen, standing close to Hannibal as he pours them each a glass of wine. 

Will kisses Hannibal’s shoulder, then leans his face against him, standing very close as Hannibal finishes plating the food. 

“Yes, darling?” Hannibal asks. He asks it like Will needs an excuse to touch him, to want to be close. Will is bothered by all this coldness Hannibal has been giving him. As if he’s trying to push Will away, or make Will uncomfortable for some reason. Or maybe Will is just reading into it too hard. 

The night before Will figured it was mostly just because of where they were, but now Hannibal is acting like Will is doing something strange by leaning against him. Now it feels like his other suspicions are more true. That Hannibal is putting distance between them, or that he is upset about something. Will wishes he could ask without it making it seem like they have relationship issues in front of Hannibal’s guests.

“I’ve missed you,” Will murmurs. He kisses Hannibal’s neck, then steps away to pick up his own glass of wine from where he left it on the counter. 

The doorbell rings again and Hannibal wipes his hands on a towel before stepping out of the kitchen, not even waiting to see if Will is following. 

Will doesn’t, just stays in the kitchen, sipping his wine. Hannibal’s two guests talk quietly to themselves in the corner, while Will stares down into his glass. 

“Ah, there he is,” Hannibal says, walking back into the kitchen. A blonde woman follows him in through the doorway. “Will, this is Bedelia Du Maurier. Bedelia, this is Will Graham.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Bedelia nods towards Will. She doesn’t extend her hand to shake, so neither does Will. 

“You, as well,” Will says. He doesn’t know why he wasn’t introduced as Hannibal’s partner this time. Why he only said it after he was asked before. 

He looks over at Hannibal, who is looking between all of his guests and smiling, then seems to catch Will’s gaze. Which is slightly more of a glare, than a gaze, and Hannibal tilts his head at him. Will looks away, and murmurs, “Excuse me,” before leaving the room, going toward the bathroom. 

Something has shifted in their relationship, and Will doesn’t know _what_ or _why._ He closes the bathroom door behind him and leans against it, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. He can’t help but think Beverly was right. That Hannibal won’t stick around if Will can’t get his shit together and tell Hannibal he loves him. But he still doesn’t feel like he can. 

Because he still feels so much self doubt, so much doubt about who Hannibal really is. Because he feels like the second he does say it, the second it becomes real, that his feelings Will stop, or that Hannibal will decide he doesn’t love him anymore, and then he’ll just be left with nothing but a broken heart. 

Will hears the doorbell ring again, then a minute later, there’s a knock on the bathroom door. 

“Will?” Hannibal asks. 

“Yeah?” Will tries to keep his voice steady, despite all of the feelings trying to cloud it. 

“Are you okay, my love?” Hannibal’s voice is so soft and concerned and Will wants to cry, but he just pushes away from the door and opens it. 

“Yeah, just needed a second. You know how I can be,” Will says, shrugging. Hannibal reaches out and cups his face, then kisses his forehead. 

“You don’t need to stay for dinner, if you don’t want to,” Hannibal murmurs. “I know it is not always comfortable for you to be around new people. You can sit in my study until they all leave, if that suits you better.”

Will shakes his head. “No, I’m okay.” 

“Tell me what’s wrong darling,” Hannibal whispers. 

Will shakes his head again and doesn’t say anything further, just pushes past Hannibal in the doorway and goes back toward the kitchen. All of Hannibal’s guests seem to be in the dining room, but Will stands in the kitchen, finishing his glass of wine at the counter. 

Hannibal walks in, plucks the glass out of Will’s hands, sets it on the counter behind him then boxes Will in. 

“Did I say something?” Hannibal asks quietly. He nuzzles at the stubble on Will’s jaw, leaves light kisses on his neck. His hands settle on Will’s hips, holding him in place. It’s the most affection he’s given tonight and Will basks in it. He feels warmth and fondness coming from Hannibal. 

Will sighs and shakes his head again. He pushes his head into Hannibal’s neck, tucking himself under his chin. “Can we talk after dinner?”

“Of course, love,” Hannibal whispers. “Tell me how to make it better now. What can I do to ease whatever is on your mind in this moment?”

“Kiss me,” Will whispers and looks up. 

Hannibal smiles at him and brings a hand to Will’s chin, leaning down to kiss him softly, just a brushing of lips. 

“Hannibal,” Will whispers. “Like you mean it.” 

“I did mean that,” Hannibal whispers back. He steps away and suddenly the moment is gone, and Will is left feeling cold again. “Our guests are waiting. I have you seated across from me at the head of the table. Go find your seat, please.”

“Oh. Okay,” Will says. He had been hoping to at least sit next to Hannibal, but they’ll have a whole table and four people between them. 

He finds his seat at the end of the table, Bedelia to his left and the latest comer, a man, to his right. Hannibal comes in a moment later carrying four plates, which he sets down in front of his guests, then he turns back to bring out two more. He sets his own down at his seat before bringing Will’s to the other end of the table. 

Hannibal presses a kiss to the top of Will’s head as he sets the plate in front of him, just as he always does every time they eat together. It makes Will feel like things are okay, normal. Even if it otherwise feels far from. 

“So, how did you and Hannibal meet?” the man to his right asks when they’re all seated and have begun to eat.

“Oh, uh,” Will says, he glances up at Hannibal who gives him a faint smile. “Work.”

“Are you a psychiatrist, too?” the man asks. 

Will shakes his head and takes a sip of his wine. “No. I work for the FBI. Hannibal was consulting on a case with me when we met.”

“Oh? Which case was that?” Mrs Matthews asks. 

Will winces. He does not want the attention on him, doesn’t want to talk about work at Hannibal’s dinner party. He looks at Hannibal, silently asking for help across the table. 

“The Minnesota Shrike,” Hannibal supplies. “Garrett Jacob Hobbs. Will is the one that solved the case.”

“Oh! I heard about that. You’re _the_ Will Graham? The one that shot Hobbs?” Mr Matthews asks. 

Hannibal clears his throat, then says, “Perhaps we don’t discuss this at the dinner table. Will didn’t come here to be interrogated about a traumatic event.” 

“Of course, sorry, Will,” Mr Matthews says. 

Will mouths, ‘thank you,’ to Hannibal across the table and he’s met with another smile. 

The conversation moves towards Hannibal’s departure from surgery, everyone but Bedelia and Will participating.

“So how do you and Hannibal know each other?” Will asks her, quietly.

“He didn’t tell you?” Bedelia asks, looking up at him. 

“No. Should he have?” Will asks. Several possibilities flash through his mind. Ex girlfriend, side piece, drug dealer. He does not expect the one that she actually says. 

“I’m his psychiatrist,” she says, very quiet. 

“That… makes a lot of sense actually,” Will says. That explains why Hannibal didn’t introduce him as his partner to her. She already knows. 

Bedelia nods. “We are friends as well. Has kept promising to invite me to his next dinner party. And kept telling me he wants me to meet you.”

“Really?” 

“Yes. He regards you very highly. I’ve never heard him speak of anyone the way he does of you,” Bedelia says. 

Will looks up and sees Hannibal watching him, eyes soft, smile wider than it has been. Hannibal winks at him across the table and Will looks down into his plate, feeling a lot better about the entire night. Not completely, but enough. 

When the dinner plates are cleared, and dessert has been finished, Hannibal sees everyone to the door. 

“Wine in the study? Or bed?” Hannibal asks, returning to Will, who stands in the kitchen.

“Study,” Will says. “I’m not tired yet.”

“I didn’t mean we would sleep,” Hannibal says with a smirk. 

Will laughs once, then says, “Still. Wine in the study. I’ll wait for you.” 

He heads off down the hall towards the study while Hannibal gets another bottle of wine and clean glasses. Will sits down on the couch, against one of the arms. He takes his tie off and lays it over the coffee table, then sits up and removes his suit jacket too. He then unbuttons his sleeves and rolls them up to his elbows.

Hannibal comes in, extends a glass to Will, who takes it in one hand, then lifts his other arm, expecting Hannibal to settle into his side. When Hannibal sits down on the opposite end of the couch, Will frowns, and sets his glass on the coffee table. He scoots over and noses against Hannibal’s jaw, sets a hand on his thigh. 

Will presses kisses to Hannibal’s neck, then pushes his body in closer, before deciding to sit across Hannibal’s legs. He buries his face into Hannibal’s neck and inhales. Hannibal doesn’t bring his arms around Will’s waist like he has every other time Will has sat across his thighs. He doesn’t tilt Will’s face up for a kiss. 

It’s… frustrating. Upsetting. Before he even knows it, a tear is slipping out of his eye and dropping onto Hannibal’s shoulder. He pulls in a deep breath, and when he exhales, it’s caught on a sob, unable to stop it from happening. 

“Is everything okay?” Hannibal asks quietly. 

“No.”

Then one of Hannibal’s arms does come around his waist, and his other hand pulls Will away from his neck, tilting his chin up. 

“Will. What’s wrong?”

“You… you’ve been distant, Hannibal. Do you still want me?” Will asks, voice broken, making no attempt at making himself sound firm. He feels so small. 

“Will, of course I do. You said we needed some space on Tuesday morning. I’ve just been respecting that,” Hannibal murmurs. 

“I… what?” Will asks, very surprised by that answer. “You…”

“You didn’t want us relying too heavily on each other. Your dependency on me lies more so with me being there when you wake from nightmares, or how you miss me when I’m gone. My own issue is needing to always be touching you, and hearing you talk to me, and look at me,” Hannibal explains. “So I have been distant because I need to get used to not having that in case I ever cannot.”

God, Will feels like an idiot. Thinking Hannibal was going to break up with him, or didn’t love him anymore.

“We’re both stupid, aren’t we?” Will asks with a quiet laugh. “I thought you were going to break up with me.”

“I couldn’t bear doing that,” Hannibal whispers. 

“No more of this shit. If we want to spend time together, then we do it. If you want to touch me, then you do,” Will says. “I thought that last night you were just trying to keep professionalism in the office, like we agreed, but when you cancelled dinner, and were still acting this way tonight. I was scared, Hannibal. Like, seriously.”

Hannibal brushes Will’s bangs away from his eyes, then kisses his forehead. Will frowns, then catches Hannibal’s lips with his own, their first proper kiss in days. Will shifts so he can straddle Hannibal’s thighs, and Hannibal’s hands move down to cup Will’s ass. They kiss, a slide of lips and tongues, small nips at each other’s lips, and jaws, until Will decides he can’t go anything further than this. Not tonight.

When Will pulls away, slightly panting, he leans his forehead against Hannibal’s and closes his eyes. 

“I don't,” Will starts, then swallows and tries again. “I want to go upstairs, but I don’t want to have sex tonight.”

“Okay,” Hannibal whispers. 

Will nods against Hannibal’s face, then pulls himself out of Hannibal’s lap and stands. 

“A bath, though?” Will asks. He holds out his hand for Hannibal to take. 

“Of course. Let me bring our glasses to the kitchen,” Hannibal says, taking Will’s hand and standing. 

“Actually, bring them. And the bottle,” Will says. He picks up his own glass and goes toward the door, heading towards the stairs while Hannibal goes into the kitchen to retrieve the bottle. 

Will gets upstairs, and goes to the bedroom, Hannibal only a few feet behind him. He sets his glass of wine down on the nightstand, then goes to pick up his bag from the doorway, bringing it to the bench at the foot of the bed. 

The water starts running in the bathroom, and Will picks up his glass of wine again, following Hannibal in. He’s undressing himself when Will walks in, and Will follows suit until they’re both naked. Hannibal looks as good as always, and Will needs to look away for a second to take a deep breath.

Will almost changes his mind about fucking, but instead just climbs into the bath and sits resting against the back of it, letting himself relax in the warm water. He spreads his legs and opens his arms, and Hannibal gets in, sitting with his back to Will’s chest. It’s a reversal of how they usually sit, but Will likes being able to hold Hannibal just as much as Hannibal likes holding him. Will rests his chin on Hannibal’s shoulder, and tightens his arms around his chest. 

“Sorry for being weird tonight,” Will whispers. 

“You weren’t.”

“I couldn’t even answer their questions,” Will murmurs. “I wanted to leave the room every time one of them looked at me.”

“They were asking you questions about traumatic events, and they should not have been,” Hannibal says. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t be comfortable tonight. That is why I almost didn’t invite you.”

“Mm. You were right,” Will murmurs. “Bedelia was nice. She’s your psychiatrist?”

“Yes. She is nice,” Hannibal agrees. 

“Who was the other guy next to me?”

“He didn’t introduce himself?” Hannibal asks, dismay in his voice. “That was just another one of my friends from my surgeon days. No one important, really. You’ll likely never see him again.”

“No?”

“No,” Hannibal says. He leans over the edge of the tub to pick up his glass and the bottle, filling his glass higher. He takes a sip, then Will takes the glass from him, drinking it, as well. His own glass is too far away, set on the bathroom counter. Hannibal doesn’t seem bothered with sharing. 

“Will you come with me tomorrow?” Will asks again. “To lunch with Beverly. And to feed the dogs.”

“If you would like me to,” Hannibal says. 

“I do,” Will whispers. 

“Then, yes, I will,” Hannibal agrees. 

They sit there until the water starts to get cold, until the bottle of wine is nearly gone, and Will is starting to really feel the effects of everything he has drank tonight. 

“Let’s get out,” Will murmurs. Hannibal nods and climbs out, using the edge of the tub to steady himself. Will laughs, “Too much to drink?”

“Maybe a bit,” Hannibal says, standing straight and walking unsteadily to the cabinet to get a towel. 

Will gets out after him, similarly holding the edge of the tub until both feet are on the ground. Hannibal is smiling at him when he straightens himself, then wraps a towel around them both, pulling Will close to his body. 

“I love you dearly,” Hannibal whispers. He kisses Will, soft and tender, arms and towel wrapped around him. Saving Will from a response, it seems. Hannibal truly doesn’t seem to need one, doesn’t ask, doesn’t seem disappointed when Will doesn’t give him one.

Will smiles against his lips and kisses him once more before stepping out of his arms, and into the bedroom. He doesn’t bother putting on any clothes, and just gets into Hannibal’s bed, burrowing under the covers. Hannibal turns on the electric fireplace, stands naked in front of it for a moment, hands extended towards it to warm up, then comes to get in bed too. He lays slightly on top of Will, crushing him into the mattress. 

He feels warm and safe, more than he has in days. Will thinks he loves Hannibal just as dearly, but when he opens his mouth to say it, Hannibal is already snoring lightly. Will whispers it anyways. Knowing Hannibal won’t hear it, but hoping Hannibal still knows even without the words.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna apologize for this chapter in advance. It's ridiculous.

“Hannibal.”

He blinks slowly awake, the room still dark, Will laying almost entirely under him. 

“Hm?” Hannibal hums sleepily. 

“You’re crushing me,” Will says. 

Hannibal rolls over to his own side of the bed and lays on his stomach, turning his head on the pillow to look at Will. Will turns on his side and Hannibal can’t keep his eyes open, but he can feel Will squirming on his side of the bed, trying to get comfortable. 

“Apologies,” Hannibal murmurs. He moves closer to Will again and extends an arm to pull him close, turning to lay on his side with Will’s face in his chest. “Sleep, love.” 

“Trying,” Will whispers. 

Hannibal frowns and kisses the top of Will’s head. “Is something troubling you?”

“No. I’m okay, I was just uncomfortable before,” Will whispers. “This is better.” 

“Good.” 

The next thing Hannibal says, he’s not quite sure why he does. Why he thought it now of all times, but he does. 

“You are the best thing to happen to me,” Hannibal whispers. 

Whatever Will says in response, if he says anything, goes unheard because Hannibal slips back into unconsciousness. 

Hannibal wakes again in the early morning, Will pressed firmly to his back now. Will is hard against him, slowly grinding against his ass, quiet moans escaping his mouth. Hannibal grins and turns his head to see Will is still asleep, presses a kiss to Will’s forehead. 

Will’s hips stop moving against him, and his eyes slowly blink open. 

“Fuck,” Will mumbles. He scoots back a bit from Hannibal, then says, “Sorry.”

Hannibal leans forward, opens his nightstand drawers and fishes for his lube, then turns and hands it to Will without another word. 

“Yeah?” Will asks, taking it. He’s still blinking sleep out of his eyes. 

“Yes,” Hannibal says, laying back on his side, facing away from Will. He turns so he’s leaning more onto his front and pulls one knee up to give Will better access. “Were you dreaming of me, Will?”

“Mhm,” Will hums, kissing one of Hannibal’s shoulders. He shifts his whole body, getting onto his knees, trails kisses down Hannibal’s spine, kisses the small of Hannibal’s back. He pauses, sits back on his heels. Hannibal turns to look at Will, wondering what stopped him. Will looks down at Hannibal’s tailbone, and says, “I’ve never noticed that.”

“Hm?” Hannibal asks, knowing exactly what Will is talking about. 

“You have a tramp stamp?” Will asks in disbelief. “Christ, how have I never seen this? And really? ‘Maneater’ is not fucking subtle. It’s like you want the entire planet to know that you’re a cannibal.”

“If the man who sees me naked regularly has not noticed it after two months, then the entire planet is not a problem,” Hannibal retorts. 

“No. You have not had this. Fuck, Hannibal,” Will laughs. He leans down and looks closer, fingers trailing over the raised lines. “You just got this done?”

Hannibal does not say a word. 

“Hannibal. I am not fucking you until you tell me when you got this.”

“Tuesday,” Hannibal whispers. 

“You aren’t supposed to bathe with a new tattoo, you know that right?”

Hannibal shrugs. “I cannot deny you a single thing.”

“Uh huh, well when your goddamn tramp stamp is fucking infected, you’ll learn to deny me, I think,” Will says. “Tuesday? You said you were having dinner with Jack!” 

“I did have dinner with Jack.”

Will groans and puts his head down on Hannibal’s back. “Don’t tell me he got a tattoo, too. Do not tell me you two went and got tattoos together.”

“Then I will not tell you that. Can we go back to what I woke you up for?” Hannibal asks. He’s so close to just thrusting against the mattress until he comes if Will doesn’t do something. 

“In a minute,” Will says dismissively. “How didn’t I notice this last night?”

“We were inebriated,” Hannibal says. “Please put something inside me, Will. We can talk about my tattoo later.”

“What did Jack get?” Will asks, sitting up and reaching for the lube. 

“Bella’s name,” Hannibal answers. It’s more of a groan because Will thrusts two fingers into Hannibal when he says it. It is a lot rougher than Hannibal would like this early in the morning. “Easy, Will.”

“Sorry,” Will mumbles, leaning down to kiss the small of Hannibal’s back, right where the tattoo is. “I’m afraid I’m feeling rather possessive.”

“Because Jack and I got tattooed together?” Hannibal asks, slightly amused. 

“Yes.”

“We can go get tattooed together if you would like.”

Will continues to finger Hannibal open, not responding to Hannibal’s offer. After a few minutes, Hannibal turns his head to look behind him again and sees Will frowning. 

“Darling,” Hannibal whispers. “Come here.”

Will pulls his fingers out and Hannibal turns to lay on his back, Will still kneeling between his legs. 

“What is the issue?” Hannibal asks. 

“When Bella dies, are you going to break up with me and ride off into the sunset with my boss?” Will asks, tone bitter. He keeps his distance, doesn’t touch Hannibal anywhere. “I mean, fuck. You didn’t even tell me about it. Just waited to see if I would notice. What the fuck, Hannibal?” 

“First,” Hannibal starts, tone firm. “I am not breaking up with you for Jack Crawford. Not now, not when Bella dies, not any time after. Second, you are allowed to go off with your friends and do as you please, and I don’t accuse you of having romantic feelings toward any of them.”

“That’s a lie!” Will practically yells. “You thought I was fucking Beverly when we were separated and only backed off when she told you she’s gay! Were you projecting? I mean Alana thought you two were going to fall in love. I bet Jack thinks the same. You’re just waiting until I’m out of the picture again.” 

Hannibal sighs. “Will.”

He sits up, pulls Will toward him, wraps him tight in his arms, then lays back down, pulling Will with him. 

“Hannibal let me go. I’m mad at you,” Will mumbles. 

“You are being difficult, is what you are,” Hannibal says, pulling Will tighter to his chest. “I love you, and only you. Jack is going through a tough time and decided to get a tattoo during a moment of impulse while we were walking away from a restaurant. I did not deliberately hide this from you, and I was fully aware you were going to see it when I was laying on my stomach before you.”

Will tries to pull free again, and Hannibal loosens his grip, but the chance to get away from him is not actually taken. 

“Did it have to be that placement and that word?” Will mumbles. 

“I thought it was comical. I told Jack Maneater by Hall and Oates is my favorite song,” Hannibal says with a smile. “Are you really upset with me, my dear?” 

Will sighs. “No. I don’t know. Yes.”

“I will admit I like seeing you possessive like this, but not upset. Please do not be angry with me,” Hannibal whispers. “Now. Are you going to fuck me, or should I take care of myself in the shower?” 

“Let me go,” Will says. Which isn’t an answer, but Hannibal lets him go, and assumes it’s the latter so he starts getting out of bed as soon as Will is off him. Will puts a hand on Hannibal’s stomach. Will’s voice is calm now when he says, “No, I’m going to fuck you. Lay back down.”

So Hannibal does, and Will gets between his legs again. 

“Did you want to be on your stomach?” Will asks, running hands up and down Hannibal’s thighs. 

Hannibal considers, then shakes his head. “I want to see you.”

“Good because I don’t want to look at your tattoo,” Will says. He picks up the lube again and Hannibal watches him open it and squeeze some onto his fingers. 

Will pushes two fingers into Hannibal again, easier this time, now that he has already been stretched a bit. He adds a third, continues to get Hannibal ready for him, then removes them all. 

He slicks up his cock and Hannibal lifts his hips and spreads his legs further. 

“Ready, baby?” Will asks. He leans down to kiss Hannibal and Hannibal nods.

“Please, Will,” Hannibal whispers. And with that, Will pushes in, one hard thrust, sending Hannibal a few inches up the bed. He groans and wraps his legs around Will’s waist. 

Before Hannibal can even adjust, Will sets a hard pace that has Hannibal grasping at his shoulders, raking his nails across the skin. Hannibal cries out, knowing just how sore he’s going to be if Will keeps that up.

“Will, not so,” Hannibal starts, cutting himself off with a moan when Will thrusts particularly hard. “Slow down. I want this to last.”

Mostly he feels like Will’s pace is fueled by anger and resentment and Hannibal doesn’t want that. He wants Will soft and loving, as he was when he woke up, before he saw the new tattoo on Hannibal’s skin. 

He really thought Will would find it amusing, but no. 

“Will,” Hannibal repeats. 

Will seems to snap out of his mood and does slow down, leans his forehead against Hannibal’s, eyes closed. 

“I’m sorry,” Will whispers. He kisses Hannibal softly, slowing his thrusts to soft rolls of his hips. “Better?” 

“Yes. Thank you,” Hannibal whispers back. “You’re still upset with me, and that’s fine, but don’t take it out on me like that.”

Will sighs. “I'm not upset. Well, maybe. A bit. I don’t know. Let’s just… not talk about it right now.” Will lengthens his thrusts. Slow, lazy, but no longer just a grinding of hips. He presses his chest to Hannibal’s trapping Hannibal’s neglected cock between their bodies. Hannibal arches up into Will’s stomach, looking for a bit of friction. 

Kisses litter his collar bones, his neck, his jaw. Will puts a little more space between their bodies, then reaches between them and wraps his hand around Hannibal’s cock. He gives him a few strokes that have Hannibal pushing into Will’s hand and meeting his thrusts, setting a good rhythm between them.

“You’re mine,” Will whispers. He bites into Hannibal’s neck, not hard enough to break skin, but Hannibal knows he’ll be marked. “No one else can have you.” 

“No one else does,” Hannibal says. “Only you, Will.” 

“As long as you know it,” Will says. 

“As long as you are mine and no one else’s,” Hannibal whispers. 

* * *

“I’m yours, baby,” Will says. He leans down to kiss Hannibal, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, drawing a low moan from Hannibal. 

“I love you,” Hannibal whispers. “I have never loved anyone as I have you.”

Will kisses him again, kisses his lips, the corner of his mouth, his jaw. Doesn’t respond, but god he feels the same exact way. 

Hannibal pulls Will’s hand away from his cock and laces their fingers together. His other hand is splayed across Will’s back, pulling Will closer to him while Will thrusts into Hannibal’s body. 

Their interlaced hands are brought up and Hannibal kisses at Will’s knuckles, a small smile on his face. Will kisses his forehead in return. 

“Sorry for being too rough. You didn’t ask for that,” Will murmurs, burying his face into Hannibal’s throat. “Let my emotions get the best of me.”

“All is forgiven, darling,” Hannibal says. 

“I feel like I keep messing everything up between us,” Will whispers. He kisses Hannibal’s neck where his face is buried, sucks on the spot, hoping to leave a mark. So everyone knows Hannibal is taken, not available for anyone else to even look at. 

“No,” Hannibal breathes. “You could never.” 

“You say that now but-”

“Will,” Hannibal growls, cutting him off. “Please can we discuss this later?”

Will laughs. “I’m killing the mood, aren't I? I digress.” 

He can feel his orgasm building up and begins to thrust into Hannibal harder, but nowhere near the brutal pace he started with. Hannibal doesn’t protest, so Will keeps at it, changes his angle until Hannibal is moaning loud and grasping at the bed sheets. 

Will smiles smugly into Hannibal’s throat, then lifts his head to meet his lips with his own. He continues to snap his hips into Hannibal, moves back to suck at Hannibal’s neck, leaving bruises along the way. 

“Will, close. Don't stop,” Hannibal moans out. Hannibal’s mouth finds Will’s shoulder and bites down, causing Will to groan. 

“I got you,” Will whispers. He takes Hannibal in his hand again, working his cock in time with his thrusts until Hannibal is tensing up underneath him and clenching around him, biting harder into his skin. Will fucks him through his orgasm until he’s falling over the edge too, coming deep inside of Hannibal. 

Will pulls out and rolls over to lay on his back next to Hannibal. Hannibal turns on his side and looks at him. For a few seconds, they both just stare at each other, no words, no touches, nothing but looking into each other’s eyes. 

“Okay?” Will asks.

Hannibal nods. “Perfect.”

Will rolls over to kiss his forehead, then settles back on to his back, looking up at the ceiling through his bangs. He feels somewhat guilty for being so upset with Hannibal. It’s just a tattoo, Will reminds himself. And while Hannibal may be his, he can’t easily control what Hannibal chooses to do with his own body. He would not tolerate that type of behavior from Hannibal, that’s for sure. 

Finally Will gets up and stumbles toward the bathroom, only glancing back to see if Hannibal’s going to follow. 

Once they’re both in the shower, getting clean together, Will finally speaks. 

“Your tattoo is fucking stupid and I am not going to pretend to like it.” He has his back to Hannibal, and Hannibal reaches for his shampoo then starts washing Will’s hair. 

“I know it is stupid. I only did it so Jack would not be doing it alone,” Hannibal says. “I would have gotten your name, but that would have been difficult to explain.” 

Will laughs. “You wouldn’t have.” 

“Yes I would have.”

“You’re insane,” Will mutters. 

“I very well could be, but I appear to be rather well adjusted to all of my psychiatrist friends.” 

Will ignores that. He really doesn’t know how to respond, so he goes back to the tattoo. 

“I think I’m just bothered that you didn’t even tell me,” Will says. He turns and faces Hannibal. “I really don’t know any of the things you do when we aren’t together. If I got a tattoo I would call you and tell you about it because I would want you to know.”

“I understand. I can be more open about my activities, Will,” Hannibal says. He leans down and kisses Will, then reaches around him to shut off the water. 

“I… yeah. I guess I just feel like I barely know anything about you,” Will shrugs. 

“You know a lot more than most, I would say,” Hannibal says. He steps out of the shower and Will follows. Hannibal hands a towel to him and takes one for himself and they both wrap them around their hips, then go back into the bedroom. “I admit that I have never had anyone in my life who I _would_ tell mundane things to. Most things I would not even think to repeat.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Will says. He drops his towel and pulls on a pair of underwear from his bag. “Still. A tattoo? You really don’t seem like the type.”

Hannibal shrugs. “I’ll likely get it removed one day.” 

“I still don’t know why you chose that one or that spot,” Will says, shaking his head. He pulls on a pair of jeans, then goes to Hannibal, standing next to him where he stands in front of his closet. “What are you wearing today?”

“What are _you_ wearing today? A shirt I hope,” Hannibal says. Will watches his eyes move up and down his bare torso.

“I was hoping for one of yours.”

Hannibal hums and pulls a black long sleeve from a hanger, handing it to Will. 

Will pulls it over his head and it fits too well. 

“Did you buy this for me?”

“Yes,” Hannibal says. He starts pulling a suit out of his closet, grey with red plaid. 

“Why?” 

“Because I want you to have clothes at my house,” Hannibal shrugs. 

“What else did you get?” Will asks. 

“Several shirts, some underwear,” Hannibal says. “I wasn’t sure what kind of pants you would like.”

Will raises an eyebrow at him. “What kind of underwear?”

“The exact kind you told me not to buy you,” Hannibal answers. 

“Why?” Will sighs.

“When you wear suits, there won’t be underwear lines,” Hannibal explains. “I suppose you could always wear no underwear with them instead.”

“You plan on having me in suits a lot?”

“Of course. We have that opera date in January that I know I told you about,” Hannibal says. 

Will remembers, and he’s been dreading it since Hannibal first mentioned it. “Yeah. Get dressed. Then we’re letting the dogs out.”

“Breakfast?” Hannibal asks. He starts to get dressed, pulling in his own stupid silk underwear, then his pants. He gestures as his ass to show Will the lack of underwear lines and Will laughs.

“You can cook at my house. I have food,” Will says. “Or we can just wait until lunch. I’m not starving.” 

“If you’d prefer to wait, then we can,” Hannibal says, buttoning up his shirt.

Will nods. 

He sits down on the edge of the bed and waits for Hannibal to finish getting dressed. 

“Look, Hannibal, I um,” Will starts. “I’m sorry for being a jealous and possessive asshole, and I know you say I don’t fuck things up, but it really feels like it. And I’m sorry for trying to hate fuck you this morning.”

“Will, please believe me when I say all is forgiven. I like seeing you possessive, but I just don’t wish for our love making to be fueled from a place of resentment,” Hannibal says. He stands in front of Will, stepping between Will legs, and putting his hands on Will’s shoulders. “Especially when that anger is misplaced. Should I deserve it, then that may be a different story, but I did not feel as though I do.”

“So you’re saying I can be as rough as I want if you _deserve_ it?” Will scoffs. “That’s a weird way to put it.”

Hannibal shrugs. “Or if we are both on the same page, I suppose. This morning I woke you up for something gentle and I miscalculated your reaction to my tattoo.” 

“What _was_ the reaction you calculated?”

“I was hoping you would laugh,” Hannibal says. 

Will frowns. “It just doesn’t seem like something you would do. And,” he shrugs. “Never mind. I’m just being weird.”

Hannibal sits down sideways across Will’s thighs and holds his face in his hands, making Will look at him.

“The only way we can know what the other is thinking is if we communicate,” Hannibal whispers. “You will never face judgement with me if you speak your mind.”

Will sighs. “I already told you I’ve been worried for a few days. And you not telling me about things just kind of reopens that.”

Hannibal pushes Will’s hair away from his face and kisses his forehead. 

“I will work on it,” Hannibal whispers. “Starting with telling you that I will be having dinner with Alana next Friday.” 

Will tenses slightly under Hannibal and tries to relax quickly, but Hannibal still notices. 

“You have nothing to worry about,” Hannibal murmurs. 

“I know.” Will kisses Hannibal’s jaw and then says. “Don’t get tattoos with Alana.”

“Hm, no. I thought we should get piercings.”

“Oh yeah? Septum? Or maybe snakebites?” Will teases.

“Nipples, actually,” Hannibal says, face so straight Will has no idea if he is kidding or not.

“Could be hot, I guess,” Will shrugs. Then, seriously, just to make sure, he asks, “But you’re not going to, right?”

“No, Will,” Hannibal smiles. “Just breaking some of this tension. Perhaps it’s in bad humor.”

“No, it’s funny,” Will says. He kisses Hannibal’s jaw again, noses at his throat, kisses one of the marks on his neck. “I worry too much, don’t I?”

“I do not worry enough, so I suppose it balances out,” Hannibal says. 

“Thank you,” Will whispers, sincerely.

“For what?”

“Making me realize I’m being ridiculous and should just trust you.”

“Hm. I would not say you’re being ridiculous, but yes, I believe you should trust me.”

Hannibal pulls away just a bit so Will can actually get a good look at the marks he left. He trails his fingertips over an especially dark one. 

“I got you pretty good,” Will says. “Is that okay? God I guess I never really think about whether or not I should leave marks on you.”

“It’s alright. I do the same to you,” Hannibal says. His fingers touch Will’s throat, and Will knows Hannibal is doing the same thing he is. Hannibal moves Will’s shirt to look at the mark on his shoulder and presses in. Will winces. “This is a good one.”

“Yeah I can feel it.”

“I broke skin. Not bleeding, though. I’ll keep an eye on it.”

“You and your sharp fucking teeth. It’s like you file them into points,” Will laughs. “Fucking maneater.” 

“See? The tattoo is fitting,” Hannibal says. He kisses Will once on the lips then stands. “We should go.”

* * *

They take Will’s car to Wolf Trap, Hannibal sitting in the passenger seat, slightly turned so he can look at Will. Will drives with one hand on the wheel and the other holding Hannibal’s hand. 

Hannibal can’t help but wonder if he should cancel his next dinner with Alana, with how possessive Will has been. How he tensed when Hannibal mentioned it. But then Hannibal has a different idea.

“Did you want to join me and Alana on Friday?” he asks. 

“No,” Will says, eyes focused on the road. “Maybe another time.”

“Can I not convince you this time?” 

“No. Sorry, but that would be too obvious.”

“Not if you arrive after her and leave before,” Hannibal suggests.

“Fuck no, if I’m making the drive out on a Friday night I’m staying over.” 

“You know you curse a lot?” Hannibal muses. 

“Yes, I am aware. Is it a problem?”

“Not with you, I suppose. I typically don’t tolerate it with others,” Hannibal says. 

“You changed the subject.”

“Ah, yes. I wasn’t suggesting you go home after dinner. Just drive around the block until she leaves,” Hannibal says. “Also remind me to get you an opener for my garage. You don’t need to be parking on the street when it’s this cold.”

“Probably a good idea in case anyone stops by your house while I’m over,” Will agrees. “I’ll… think about Friday, okay?”

Hannibal gives Will’s hand a squeeze and smiles. “Of course.” 

They reach Will’s house and the dogs all come streaming out of the house the second the door is open. Rusty jumps up and puts his paws on Hannibal’s stomach, and Will calls him down, but Hannibal cups Rusty’s head between his hands and leans down to kiss the dog on the snout.

“You should take him home,” Will says.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because he likes you.”

Rusty runs a circle around Hannibal before running off into the yard to do his business. 

“All of your dogs like me,” Hannibal says, walking in through the door Will is holding open. 

“Rusty sleeps on your pillow when you aren’t here and sits on the couch in your spot,” Will says. “None of the others do that.”

“I am not taking him home. I am not home a lot and he would be lonely. He has a better life here than he would in Baltimore,” Hannibal says. “I’m quite fond of him, though.”

“Well, he’s your dog then. Your dog that lives at my house. How does that sound?”

“Sounds like he is _our_ dog then,” Hannibal says.

Will smiles, bites his lip like he’s holding something back, then walks into the kitchen.

Hannibal knows exactly what Will wants to say. He always knows, every time he opens his mouth, then closes it again. Every time he kisses Hannibal over and over after Hannibal says ‘I love you.’ Will doesn’t need to say it. Hannibal knows. 

Even if Will hadn’t said it that one night when he thought Hannibal to be asleep, Hannibal would know. 

Because Will says _‘I miss you when you’re gone,’_ and _‘Please don’t get caught,’_ and _‘You’re mine, no one else’s,’_ and that’s enough. That’s his own way of saying it, Hannibal knows that. 

“Hey, so, I was thinking,” Will calls out to Hannibal from the kitchen, snapping Hannibal out of his thoughts. 

“What about?” Hannibal asks. He follows Will into the kitchen and leans against the door frame. Will is bent over, filling up the dog bowls with food.

“Could we come back here tonight? After the gallery?” Will asks, quiet, not looking at Hannibal. 

“If you’d like.” 

Will nods, then stands up straight. He walks toward Hannibal and slips past him in the doorway. 

“I don’t like leaving the dogs alone overnight if I can help it,” Will says, letting them in. “Especially when it’s so cold out. I don’t like leaving the space heater on when I’m not here, but it gets cold for them.”

“Alright,” Hannibal says. It doesn’t make much of a difference to him where they are. Especially now that he is not killing tonight and doesn’t need to worry about location. They rarely spend time together at Hannibal’s house to begin with. “Is there another reason?”

Will shrugs. “You feel at home here. I can’t say the same about myself at your house. Maybe with time, but, you know. Not yet.”

“I understand, Will. Whatever makes you more comfortable,” Hannibal says. He goes to stand in front of Will near the front door, pushes his bangs out of his eyes. “When are we meeting Beverly for lunch?” 

“Eleven,” Will says. “Hope you like Applebee’s.”

“Yes, that is fine,” Hannibal answers. “I hope you know I am buying.”

“Can I say no?”

“No, you cannot.” 

“Okay, fine. Can you drive home after?” Will asks. 

“Yes,” Hannibal says, slowly. Skeptical. “May I ask why?”

“They’ve got one-dollar margaritas,” Will says. 

“Do they,” Hannibal deadpans.

“Yeah. They're called Dollaritas.”

“How clever,” Hannibal says. “And how many of these margaritas-”

“Dollaritas,” Will corrects. 

“- do you plan on drinking?” Hannibal finishes. 

“Hard to say,” Will shrugs. 

“We do have plans tonight,” Hannibal reminds him. “I do not need you intoxicated at this event.”

“I’ll be fine. We can come home and take a nap before then,” Will shrugs. 

“If you insist.” 

“Yes. We have some time before lunch. What did you want to do?” 

“Perhaps we should go back to my house and get my car so it can be here in the morning,” Hannibal says. 

“Or I'll just drive you home in the morning? We don’t have time to drive all the way back to Baltimore right now.” 

“No I suppose not.”

At that moment the dogs all come running out of the kitchen and form a circle around both men. Will turns to his hall closet, opens it, and pulls out two pairs of boots. 

“These should fit you,” he says, handing a pair to Hannibal. “Dogs want a walk.”

Hannibal sighs, but pulls on the pair of boots offered to him. He buries his hands deep inside his pockets as they step outside. Will puts a hat over Hannibal’s head, then puts one on himself. 

“Thank you,” Hannibal murmurs. 

Despite the cold, they both remove a hand from their pockets so they can walk with them together. Rusty stays by Hannibal’s side the entire walk, the other dogs all running after sticks that Will throws for them. 

Will finally declares they need to head back, so they do. 

“You’re too dressed up for Applebee’s,” Will tells him once they’re inside. 

Hannibal looks down at his suit, then up at Will. “I don’t think it matters. Do you not like my suit?”

“No, I like it a lot,” Will answers. “And so will everyone else.”

“Ah and you don’t want people to look at me,” Hannibal realizes. “Very well. I will change for lunch, but I am putting this back on tonight.”

“That’s fine,” Will says. “What should I wear tonight? The suit you got me is still at your house.”

“A button down and slacks will be just fine. It’s not formal by any means,” Hannibal says. “You would be okay in that shirt even. If you change your pants.”

“Hm. Okay,” Will agrees. 

Hannibal goes to the drawer he has taken over for his own clothes and finds a sweater that can go with his current pants. Will frowns slightly, but doesn’t say anything. 

They end up back in the car a few minutes later, Will driving, holding hands between their seats. 

They pull up and park in front of the restaurant and Will looks around the lot. 

“She’s already here,” Will says. 

* * *

They get out of the car and Will takes Hannibal’s hand in his own again as they walk to the door. 

Beverly is at a booth across the restaurant and waves to them, gesturing them over. 

“You didn’t say you were bringing Doctor Lecter,” Beverly says, an eyebrow raised. 

Will shrugs and slides into the booth, pulling Hannibal down into the seat. 

“He’s paying, so don’t complain,” Will says with a wink. He turns and kisses Hannibal on the cheek and Hannibal smiles fondly at him. 

“Wasn’t planning on complaining. It’s good to see you, Doctor Lecter,” Beverly says, looking at Hannibal. 

“You can call me Hannibal,” he says. 

Will takes hold of Hannibal’s hand again and rests them on the table together, giving one gentle squeeze. 

A waitress comes over and asks for their drink orders, Hannibal ordering a diet soda, much to Will’s surprise, and Will ordering a margarita just as he promised Hannibal. 

“Soda?” Will asks him. 

“I don’t know why you think I am incapable of drinking something other than coffee or wine,” Hannibal whispers. “I am human. We are out for lunch.”

“That day you brought me breakfast in my motel room you said you’re very careful about what you put into your body,” Wil reminds him. 

“A diet Pepsi is hardly going to kill me, my love,” Hannibal says. 

“Are you sure you two haven’t been married for twenty years?” Beverly asks. 

Will laughs, cheeks going slightly red. He is still not entirely on board with the marriage talk, and the way Hannibal squeezes his hand might suggest he isn’t entirely either. 

When his drink is set down on the table, Will wastes no time drinking half of it in one go. 

The waitress takes their food orders, and Will is surprised Hannibal is actually eating something. He supposes he did make them skip breakfast, so this is really the man’s only shot to eat until dinner. 

Will makes it through three drinks before the food gets there and he’s starting to feel it a bit, but that doesn’t stop him from ordering another. 

Hannibal sits with an arm behind Will’s shoulders, listening as Beverly and Will talk to each other. 

“Oh get this!” Will exclaims. He looks over at Hannibal and shakes his head. “You’ll never believe this, Bev.” 

“Well, tell me, then,” Beverly urges. 

“You’ll never guess what I saw last night,” Will grins. 

“Will,” Hannibal warns. 

Will ignores him and leans forward across the table. “Hannibal got a tattoo.”

“Really?” Bev asks. 

“Uh huh,” Will nods. “A _tramp stamp._ And you’ll never guess what it says.”

“Tell me.”

“Will,” Hannibal says again. 

“Maneater,” Will says, ignoring Hannibal. Beverly lets out a laugh and Will continues, “And! You’ll never guess who he went with to get it!”

“Who?”

Will looks at Hannibal and receives a glare, and Will knows Hannibal is trying to say _‘Please don’t do this to Jack. Or me,’_ but Will continues to ignore him. 

“Jack.”

“No!” Beverly exclaims in disbelief. “What did Jack get?”

“Bella’s name above his heart,” Hannibal answers. 

“And you got ‘Maneater’ above your ass,” Will responds, pressing a kiss to Hannibal’s cheek. 

He starts drinking his fourth drink and Hannibal takes it out of his hand. He sets it on the edge of the table, and while Will could reach it, he knows Hannibal will not be happy. 

“Hey!” 

“Will, I am not carrying your drunk self out of here,” Hannibal responds. “Slow down.”

The waitress sets down their food and asks if they need anything else. 

“Could I please get a glass of water?” Hannibal asks with a polite smile. 

She nods and leaves, returning a minute later with a glass of ice water. 

“Thank you,” Hannibal says. He hands it to Will. “Drink this.”

“God you’re annoying,” Will mutters. 

“And you will be, too if you keep drinking. Actually, I rescind that. You are already annoying.” 

“Whatever. You love me.”

“I do,” Hannibal agrees, voice soft, mouth pressed close to Will’s ear now. 

“God,” Beverly says. “You two are perfect for each other.”

Will smiles and starts eating the pasta he ordered, looking down into the bowl. 

“Seriously. Will it’s good to see you so happy,” Beverly says. “And Hannibal, you really do a good job to make him happy.”

“Thanks, Bev,” Will says. 

“I will say that if you come back to work crime scenes, and Hannibal comes with, you cannot have bite marks on your necks,” Beverly says. “I mean, the guys keep asking me if I know who you’re with.”

“Do they suspect?” Will asks, shifting awkwardly in his seat. Hannibal sets a hand on his thigh and squeezes. Light and reassuring. 

“No. Brian and Jack both think you’re with a woman,” Beverly shrugs.

“I corrected Brian the other day.” 

Beverly shrugs again. “He probably didn’t hear you.”

They continue to eat their food, and Will takes his drink back from the edge of the table. Hannibal looks like he’s going to stop him, and Will raises an eyebrow to say _‘I dare you to try,’_ so Hannibal backs off. 

“Hey, so,” Will says. “Don’t tell anyone about Jack’s tattoo.”

“I’m not stupid, Will,” Beverly says. “I would have to explain how I found out about Hannibal’s tramp stamp.”

“Right. Yeah. Don’t tell anyone about that either,” Will tells her. 

* * *

Will is getting visibly more intoxicated the longer they sit there, and when the waitress comes back to ask if he’d like another margarita, Hannibal decides it’s time to cut him off. Considering he just finished his fifth. 

“Yes, please,” Will says, just as Hannibal says, “No, thank you.”

Hannibal whispers, “No,” in Will’s ear and Will sighs. 

“I’m fine, thank you,” he says to the waitress. 

“I believe we are ready for the check whenever you have a moment,” Hannibal says with a smile. The waitress turns and leaves the table, and Hannibal looks at Will again. “I am beginning to think you only wanted me here so I would drive home.”

Will rests his head on Hannibal’s shoulder, forehead rubbing at his sweater as he shakes his head. 

“You two are both important to me and I want you to be friends,” Will says. 

Hannibal glances up at Beverly and she gives him a look that Hannibal reads as _‘He’s lost his mind,’_ and Hannibal returns the look with a look that says _‘Tell me about it.’_

The check is placed on the table and Hannibal pulls out his card and hands it to the waitress, then sets a generous cash tip on the table. When his card is returned, Will is still resting his head against Hannibal’s shoulder.

“Let’s get you home, love,” Hannibal murmurs, kissing the top of Will’s head. “Miss Katz, it was wonderful to see you. We will have to do this again.”

“Of course,” Beverly agrees. 

Hannibal slides out of the booth and pulls on his jacket, Will and Beverly following suit. Will takes a few stumbling steps toward the door, and Hannibal wraps an arm around his waist to steady him. 

He earns a hand swatting him away. 

“I’m fine,” Will says. “Seriously. I didn’t have that much.”

“Forgive me for not believing you,” Hannibal says into his ear. He pulls Will close into his body and leads him to the car. “Keys?” 

Will hands him the car keys and Hannibal unlocks it, taking Will to the passenger side and opening the door for him. When Will is inside the car, Hannibal leans down and kisses him on the lips. They taste of sugar and tequila. 

Hannibal gets into the driver’s seat and starts driving back to Will’s house. Will stares at him the entire time. 

“Yes, Will?” Hannibal asks after five minutes. 

“You’re really good looking. Have I ever told you that? Like wow,” Will says. He reaches out and touches Hannibal’s cheekbones, then trails his fingers to Hannibal’s lips. 

“Touch me later, darling. I’m trying to drive,” Hannibal sighs. 

“Or I can touch you now,” Will whispers. His hand makes its way to Hannibal’s thigh, and moves up, closer and closer to Hannibal’s groin. 

“Will,” Hannibal warns. He sets his hand down on top of Will’s, laces their fingers together and rests them on his knee. 

“Seriously, why are you so beautiful? Like absolutely gorgeous,” Will continues, seemingly unbothered that Hannibal redirected his hand. 

“You need to lay down and sleep for a bit when we get home,” Hannibal says. 

“Ooooor,” Will says, drawing it out. “We could have sex again.”

“No,” Hannibal says. “You’ve had far too much to drink.”

“Boring,” Will huffs. “Fine. Later?”

“If you still want to, yes,” Hannibal says. 

“Oh, I’m sure I will,” Will says. Hannibal can see him grinning out of the corner of his eye. “You know something?”

“Hm?”

“I like you a lot,” Will says, very matter of fact. “Like, so much. And I know you…” Will lowers his voice and says, “Kill people,” then brings his voice back to a normal volume to continue, “But you’re really nice to people. _And_ you’re really, really good to me.” 

“I dislike rudeness,” Hannibal says. He’s smiling at Will’s drunken ramblings, how his filter has begun to go away. Hannibal just hopes that Will does not accidentally drink too much around someone else in the future and tell them things he shouldn’t. 

“I know, but _I’m_ rude. Really rude,” Will points out. “But you never get mad at me for it. And you are really understanding all the time. And it’s really,” Will pauses, seeming to look for the right word. He settles on, “Nice.”

Hannibal squeezes Will’s hand. “Your rudeness is rather endearing. I am very fond of you, if you have not noticed.”

“Mm, I’ve noticed,” Will agrees. “If you weren’t I think I’d probably be on your dining table by now.”

“That can still be arranged,” Hannibal says with a wink. 

“Doctor Lecter, you wouldn’t. Not on your nice table where all of your friends eat. You’re too polite.”

“Mm, I think I would. It is my house after all,” Hannibal says. “You have sex in your living room.”

“That’s because my _bed_ is in my living room.”

“Would you have sex on your couch?”

“Yeah,” Will says. 

“Where all your friends sit?”

“Okay, okay. Fine. Touché,” Will huffs. “That’s a good idea, actually.”

“Sex on your couch? But why, when your bed is just feet away?” Hannibal asks. 

At this time they pull up in front of Will’s house, and Hannibal shuts off the car. 

“First, you brought it up. Second, you don’t want to be bent over the back of the couch? Or you could ride me,” Will shrugs. “I know you like looking at me.”

“I do,” Hannibal agrees. “Come on, let’s go inside. We can discuss this further tonight.”

The dogs are all excited they are back, and both men stand on the porch waiting for the dogs to be ready to come back inside. Will has stopped rambling for the moment, just stands behind Hannibal with his arms wrapped around him, rubbing his face between Hannibal’s shoulders.

Inside, Hannibal gets Will another glass of water while Will takes off his jeans and climbs into his bed. Hannibal sets the glass down on the nightstand, then goes to walk away. To go sit on the couch so Will can sleep it off, but Will reaches out and grabs his wrist. 

“Lay with me,” Will requests. So Hannibal lays down next to Will, on his side facing him. He pushes Will’s hair away from his face and Will smiles up at him. He brings a hand up to cup Hannibal’s cheek, rubbing the bone with his thumb. “Did you mean it last night?”

“Mean what, darling?” Hannibal whispers. 

“I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you?” Will asks. His voice is strained and it looks like tears are starting to well up in his eyes. 

“Of course,” Hannibal whispers. He wipes a tear that falls down the side of Will’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“You make me so happy,” Will says. He wraps his arms around Hannibal’s neck and pulls him closer. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“I don’t know,” Hannibal whispers. “I ask myself the same of you every day.”

“God. I think I’m drunk. Sorry,” Will says with a sniffle. 

“Yes, I know,” Hannibal whispers. “Sleep it off.”

“That’s a good idea. You’ll stay in bed with me, right?” Will asks. He turns over, pushes Hannibal off of him, and turns him so that Will can press against his back. “I won’t try and fuck you in my sleep, don’t worry.”

Hannibal laughs. “I trust you.”

Will kisses the back of Hannibal’s neck a few times, then under his ear, sits up slightly so he can kiss Hannibal’s jaw. Hannibal turns his face so Will can kiss his lips. 

“What time are we leaving?” Will asks, lips close to Hannibal’s, sharing each other’s breath. 

“Around five.”

Will nods, presses their lips together again and then lays back down behind Hannibal, pulling him close. It’s only a few minutes before Will’s breathing has evened out and he’s snoring lightly into Hannibal’s neck. 

* * *

When Will wakes up again, there’s a terrible taste in his mouth. 

“Ugh,” he groans. He props himself on his elbow and leans forward so he can see Hannibal’s face. “Are you awake?”

“Yes,” Hannibal says. His eyes are closed, and remain closed. Will kisses him and Hannibal’s nose scrunches up in disgust. “Go brush your teeth.”

“Yeah. That’s a good idea,” Will says, getting out of bed and heading towards the bathroom. When he returns, Hannibal is out of bed and is buttoning up his waistcoat. “Hey, so did I start crying? Or do I remember that incorrectly.”

“Yes, you did,” Hannibal says simply. “You also told me how good looking I am.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Will groans. “I’m sorry.”

“You have no reason to be. I like to hear it.”

“Yeah because you’re a narcissist. I meant sorry for drinking too much,” Will says. He goes to his drawers to pull out clothes, choosing a dark sweater and a gray blazer to go over it, along with a pair of dark slacks. “Is this okay?”

“Yes, that will look very nice on you.”

Will nods and starts getting dressed. 

Just before five they get into Will’s car, Hannibal driving, holding hands on the center console, just as they always do. They find a parking spot in a structure a few blocks from the building where the art gallery is. Hannibal grabs onto Will’s hand again as they walk through the parking structure and down the stairs to the street level.

It’s freezing outside and Will walks pressed as close to Hannibal as he can. It is a huge relief when they finally make it to the warmth of the building, but Will still stays close, still holds his hand. 

They walk around, looking at the art on the walls. Hannibal stops and talks to nearly everyone in the building. He lets go of Will’s hand and Will is about to reach for him again when Hannibal’s arm comes around him and the hand rests on his hip instead. 

“Sweet William? Is that you?” A voice calls out. 

“Oh fuck,” Will mutters. Hannibal pulls Will closer to him just as Will turns around to see Jimmy Price coming up behind them, forcing Hannibal’s arm to drop. “Jimmy!”

Hannibal is still facing away, and Will knows it’s really not doing anything to conceal his identity, not when he’s the only man in Virginia and Maryland that wears suits like that. 

“Is this your mystery man?” Jimmy asks. His mouth drops open. “Hold on a second… _Doctor Lecter?”_

Then Hannibal finally turns to face Jimmy too. “Mr Price. Pleasure to see you again.”

“Hold the phone here,” Jimmy says, looking back and forth between the both of them. Will watches as his eyes go from his face, to Hannibal’s, back and forth between both of their marked up necks, then down to the arm that is behind Will’s back again, the hand on his hip. “I am surprised to say the least.”

Will sighs. “You cannot tell anyone.”

Jimmy makes a gesture of zipping his lips and throwing away the key. “Really, though? Wow!” 

“Yes, really,” Will sighs. Hannibal stays silent next to him, slightly tense. Will turns, puts a hand on his chest, and whispers, “It’s okay, baby. Really. Jimmy won’t tell anyone,” then he looks back to Jimmy and says, “I am serious. Nobody can know.”

“Does Beverly know?”

“Yes,” Will answers. 

“So I can gossip with her, then. Got it. Assuming Jack Crawford is the biggest ‘do not tell,’ right?” 

“That would be correct,” Hannibal answers. “But besides Jack, no one else can know either.”

“Yeah, not Brian, not Jack, no one higher up than Jack, either.”

“Your secret is safe with me, guys. Really. I’m not going to out anyone,” Jimmy says. 

“Thank you,” Will says with a sigh of relief. “What brings you here, then?”

“A fan of the arts. I’m assuming Doctor Lecter is the reason why you’re here.”

Will nods. He feels the need to leave. Get out of public before anyone else shows up. He knew it would be a bad idea to have a public date like this. But it’s not like they have never gone out in public together. This morning was _fine._

“So how long have you been together, then?”

“Since Minnesota,” Will answers. 

“The day you killed Hobbs?” Jimmy asks in disbelief. “Didn’t Lecter do your psych eval after that?”

“No, no. The day we found Marrisa Schuur’s body,” Will says, waving a hand to get Jimmy to stop talking and listen. “Hannibal asked me out that morning before we went to the hunting cabin.”

“Really? Wait, so that means... “ Jimmy looks at Hannibal with a hint of anger. “You’re the guy that broke Sweet William’s heart during that Ripper sounder.”

“That’s not,” Will says, shaking his head. “That was more my fault, trust me. I’m a jealous bastard and said hurtful things. Hannibal has been really good to me, Jimmy.”

“Well,” Jimmy says. He looks at Hannibal and points a finger. “If you do hurt him, I know how to hide a body pretty damn well.”

“Of course, Mr Price. I do not intend on hurting Will for as long as I live, though,” Hannibal says, ever so polite. Will is a bit nervous about how Jimmy is talking to him. It’s not meant to be rude, and Jimmy is just protective over his friends, but Will has no idea what Hannibal’s tolerance level is. Has no idea if he would kill a friend. 

“Jimmy, it’s really good seeing you, but I think Hannibal and I would like to get back to our date,” Will says. 

“Yes, of course. Sorry for keeping you,” Jimmy says. He turns to go, but gives Hannibal one last warning look before he does. 

“Can we go?” Will asks. “I’m sorry. I know we just got here, but I’m-”

“Will,” Hannibal whispers.

But Will keeps talking, “- uncomfortable and if it were anyone other than Jimmy, we could have been in huge trouble.” 

“Darling,” Hannibal says. He turns to face Will and cups his cheeks in his hands, looking down into Will’s eyes. Will searches Hannibal’s for any sort of anger, or irritation, but doesn’t find any. He relaxes just a bit, then even more when Hannibal says, “We can leave.” 

Hannibal leans down to kiss Will once, adjusts Will’s glasses on his face, and pushes his hair out of his eyes. He kisses Will’s forehead and Will moves closer so he can wrap his arms around Hannibal. He squeezes him tight in a hug before letting go.

“Thank you,” Will whispers. 

They get their coats from the coat check and walk hand in hand out to the car. 

“Why does he call you Sweet William?” Hannibal asks when they’re in the car and leaving the parking structure. 

“Because the fucking Chesapeake Ripper put sweet williams in the chest cavity if the third victim,” Will groans. “My name isn’t even William.”

“Did you tell him that?” Hannibal asks. 

“Yes,” Will says. 

“Is it my turn to be jealous?” Hannibal asks. 

“You can be whatever you want. I’m not leaving you for Jimmy Price, though. Just so we’re clear,” Will says. 

Hannibal does not like the idea of Jimmy Price calling Will by that name. Especially when it happened because of a Ripper display. He does feel jealous, possessive. Jimmy was a bit rude… but no. Hannibal won’t kill him. He is protective of Will, and Hannibal knows that’s a good thing. 

Jimmy does know about their relationship, now though. Which is not great, truth be told. Hannibal does not know how trustworthy he is, even if Will trusts him. 

Hannibal reaches across the space between them and puts a possessive hand on Will’s leg, giving him a squeeze, and leaving it to rest there. 

“Should we get dinner? Or should I cook?” Hannibal asks. 

“Do you want to cook?” Will asks. 

“If I’m being honest, I want to take you to bed, but I do think we should eat.”

“We can order takeout from somewhere and bring it home?” Will suggests. 

“That would work. Do you have a place in mind?” 

“Yeah, I’ll call the Chinese place by my house. It’s good. How are you with spicy food?”

“Not my favorite,” Hannibal says. Meaning his tolerance is actually quite low. 

“Okay. Sweet and sour chicken, then? Fried rice and noodles, too?” Will asks, pulling out his phone. 

“That is fine,” Hannibal says. 

Will calls the restaurant and places their order, then tells Hannibal how to get there. 

“Hey, sorry I made us leave early. I know you’ve been looking forward to this,” Will says.

“I was looking forward to spending time with you, not necessarily the art gallery. I saw what I wanted to see, besides,” Hannibal says. “You weren’t comfortable there, and your comfort is more important than some mediocre artwork.” 

“Just so you know, I’m rarely comfortable anywhere,” Will laughs. “I really don’t want that to be a problem, but it is sometimes. I mean, if people we know don’t show up, then I probably won’t ask to leave early.” 

“Will, really. You don’t need to explain yourself,” Hannibal says. 

“Maybe not for you, but I always feel the need to justify everything to myself, you know?” 

“I understand,” Hannibal says. “I am a psychiatrist, you know.”

Will laughs. “Yes, Hannibal, I know.”

They stop at the restaurant and Will runs in to get the food, insisting it’s his treat this time. At Will’s house, Hannibal takes out the dogs while Will unpacks the food on the coffee table in front of the couch, and they eat next to each other while watching TV. 

When they finish eating, Will yawns, stretches, then settles into Hannibal’s side. Hannibal wraps his arm around him, and kisses the top of his head. Will ends up falling asleep on the couch, resting against Hannibal. 

Eventually he gets up from under Will and takes the takeout containers to the trash, then lets the dogs outside again. When he goes back inside, Will is still asleep. Not wanting to disturb him, Hannibal puts a blanket over him, then goes to sleep in Will’s bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't tell me the tattoo is out of character. i know and i like (and its also not but that'll be more obvious later i think). anyways. Leave comments about the most ridiculous part of this chapter and exactly how out of hand it all got!


	13. Chapter 13

Will wakes in a panic in the middle of the night, not knowing where he is. He falls off the couch and onto the floor in the process with a loud thump. 

“Fuck!” Will yells, rubbing at the hip that hit the ground first. He knows it’s gonna bruise. 

He lays down on the ground, defeated, trying to steady his breathing. 

“Will?” Hannibal’s voice comes from across the room. The lamp turns on and there’s footsteps coming toward him. 

Will looks up at him from the floor. Hannibal is in just his stupid silk underwear, hair mussed up from sleep, eyes tired. 

“Help me up, would you?” Will groans, reaching a hand out to Hannibal. Hannibal ignores the hand and bends down, picking Will up off the floor in a bridal carry and taking him to the bed. 

Hannibal puts him down on the bed and shuts off the lamp again, then crawls in next to Will. Will kicks off his pants and throws his sweater into the laundry basket. He pulls the blankets over them both. 

“Why did you let me sleep on the couch?” Will asks, yawning. 

“You looked comfortable,” Hannibal says. 

“I was until I fell off,” Will mutters. Then he remembers. “We were going to fuck on the couch tonight.”

“You fell asleep,” Hannibal says. He buries his face in Will’s neck, kisses him there, then whispers, “Maybe in the morning.”

“What time is it?”

Hannibal sighs, and Will knows he’s irritated. “I don’t know. I woke up because I heard you yell an expletive. Forgive me for having other things on my mind than the time.”

“God, sorry for asking.” 

Will checks the clock himself, and it’s not even three in the morning yet. 

“Hey, Hannibal,” Will whispers. 

“What?” 

“Never mind. You’re grouchy.”

“Will,” Hannibal sighs. “What is it?”

Will rolls them over and gets on top of Hannibal, straddling his hips. 

“You said we could have sex in the middle of the night because we have nowhere to go in the morning,” Will whispers. “Do you want to?”

“I’m tired, darling,” Hannibal whispers. 

Will nods, leans down to kiss Hannibal, then starts to get off of him. Hannibal grabs his hips and pulls him back down. Will winces, still feeling where his hip hit the hardwood floor when he fell off the couch. 

“Stay where you are. Keep kissing me,” Hannibal requests. 

“Are you going to fall asleep on me if I do?” Will laughs. Still he leans back down and kisses Hannibal, soft, slow. Loving. He is tired himself and knows he won’t last long before he needs to lay down on the bed and sleep, but he just keeps kissing Hannibal.

Will starts a slow rotation of his hips, grinding his hardening cock against Hannibal’s. Hannibal moans into his mouth, grabs at Will’s ass, pulls him even tighter to his body. 

Hannibal pulls his mouth to the side, away from Will’s, and Will backs off, bringing his hips to a halt. He rests his hands on Hannibal’s chest and waits for Hannibal to say something.

“Okay?” Will asks.

Hannibal nods. “I’m just trying to decide if I’m too tired or not.” 

“I’m in the same boat,” Will laughs. “I’m up for whatever you are.”

Hannibal runs his hands up and down Will’s thighs, and Will can see him biting his lip in thought. He drums his fingers on the fabric of Will’s boxers. 

“Take these off,” Hannibal says, tugging at the hem. “Then lay on your back.”

Will gets up and does as he’s asked, and watches as Hannibal pushes his own underwear down without getting up from the bed.

Hannibal sits up, turns on the lamp next to the bed again, then frowns when he looks at Will.

“What?” Will asks.

* * *

Hannibal gets on his knees and moves so he can straddle Will’s thighs. He trails his fingers over the bruising skin of Will’s hip. 

“You hit the ground fairly hard,” Hannibal murmurs. He leans down and kisses Will’s bare hip. “I’ll get you some ice.”

“I’m  _ fine,  _ Hannibal. Do not get up right now,” Will says. 

Hannibal smiles against Will’s skin, kisses his bruised hip again, then moves up Will’s body to kiss his lips. He takes himself in his hand and starts to stroke himself to hardness. He’s starting to wake up now, not feeling the irritation he was a few minutes ago, but below him Will appears to be fading fast.

“Are you sure  _ you _ aren’t going to fall asleep on  _ me?”  _ Hannibal asks, taking both of their cocks in one hand. 

Will gasps out in response and arches his back, pushing into Hannibal’s hand. Hannibal leans down to kiss him on the mouth, and is met with tired, lazy kisses. Soft noises come from Will as Hannibal holds them tighter and moves his hand quicker. 

Hannibal rocks his hips and Will pushes up against him, both men moaning into each other’s mouths. 

“Hannibal,” Will whispers. 

“Yes, Will?”

“Can I- ah. Fuck. Want to be inside you,” Will says, panting heavily. Hannibal smiles against his throat, kisses his neck, then pulls his hand away. 

Hannibal reaches for the nightstand drawer without getting off of Will, and retrieves the lube. He slicks up his own fingers and slides two into himself, still somewhat stretched from the previous morning. Will watches him with sleepy eyes and a lazy smile while Hannibal fingers himself open.

“You’re really pretty,” Will murmurs. He reaches up to touch Hannibal’s face, and shuts his eyes, still smiling. He opens his eyes again, slow, as if it’s a chore. “Really. I could look at you forever.”

Will drops his hand to his stomach and slowly closes and opens his eyes open again. Hannibal knows they are not gonna get much further than this tonight, so he pulls his fingers out of himself and leans down to kiss Will.

“You ready?” Will asks, reaching for his own cock to line himself up with Hannibal. Hannibal moves his hips away and shakes his head. 

“Let me just kiss you for a minute,” Hannibal whispers. He knows Will is on the verge of sleep now. Hannibal decides he’ll just let Will fall asleep while they’re kissing. 

Will pulls his hand back up and cups Hannibal’s cheeks. Hannibal kisses him soft, a lazy slide of tongues and lips, until Will stops moving under him entirely, and his hands drop back down to his chest.

Hannibal laughs quietly to himself and climbs off of Will, heading towards the bathroom. He knew this was going to happen. He gets into the shower and jerks himself off. He’s climbing back into bed next to a sleeping Will before long.

Will lets out a quiet sound in his sleep when Hannibal pulls the blankets over them and pulls him close. 

“Love you,” Will murmurs into Hannibal’s neck. And Hannibal’s heart jumps in his chest. Will definitely is not awake, said it in his sleep. But it’s still good to hear. 

Hannibal maneuvers Will and holds him against himself, Will’s head resting on Hannibal’s chest, legs tangled together. Will’s cock is still hard against Hannibal’s hip, and while he saw it coming from a mile away, he cannot believe Will actually fell asleep. 

In the morning, Hannibal wakes up to Will sitting on him. 

“Did I fall asleep after asking to fuck last night?” Will asks when Hannibal blinks his eyes open. 

“You did.”

“Sorry,” Will laughs. 

“All is well. I took care of myself in the shower,” Hannibal shrugs. 

Will leans down to kiss him and Hannibal is entirely too focused on Will’s morning breath. 

“Would you mind brushing your teeth before we continue this?” Hannibal asks. 

* * *

Will laughs and climbs off of Hannibal. He stumbles toward the bathroom and takes his time brushing his teeth so Hannibal won’t complain. When he comes back, Hannibal is laying on his side, eyes closed again. 

He walks right past the bed and to the front door to let the dogs out. A gust of cold wind hits his naked body and he shivers, a full body one. He looks longingly back towards the warm bed, and Hannibal, wanting to climb back in and lay together for the rest of the day. 

He shuts the door and stands near it until he hears the dogs on the porch again. He lets them inside and watches as Rusty goes to the bed and licks Hannibal’s face. 

“Will, stop,” Hannibal murmurs. He puts his hand out, eyes still shut, and opens them wide when his hand touches the dog’s head. “Oh. Russel. Go lay down.”

Will laughs and gets back into bed with Hannibal, pulling the blankets up over both of their shoulders. 

“You’re freezing,” Hannibal whispers, nuzzles Will’s neck with his face. 

“I’m fine,” Will says. But he’s shivering from the few seconds he had the door open. Shaking uncontrollably, really. 

Hannibal wakes up a bit more fully and rolls out of the bed. Will frowns until he sees Hannibal grab the blankets off the back of the couch. 

Will takes them when Hannibal hands them to him and he wraps himself up tight, then pulls the other blankets over him, sighing when his body finally stops shaking. 

Hannibal lays down next to him and Will opens the blankets again so Hannibal can be under them too. Hannibal presses close, buries his face in Will’s neck, holds him tight around the waist. 

“Should we visit Abigail today?” Will asks. 

“If you want,” Hannibal says into his neck. His voice is tired, accent thicker than usual. “I’ve been considering the possibility of taking her out of the facility if she is willing. I believe she has been there long enough.”

“I agree. Where would she go, though?” Will asks. He runs his fingers through the hair on the back of Hannibal’s head and Hannibal makes a sound that could almost be described as purring. 

“She can live with me,” Hannibal says. “Or go to school. She could even likely start next term if she has a school in mind. I can always use some of my connections.”

“Hm. We can discuss it with her today then. Did you tell Alana yet?” Will asks. 

“It was going to be the topic of discussion at dinner this Friday. I was planning on talking to Abigail at some point before then,” Hannibal answers. “That said, it may be a good idea for you to come on Friday and would give you good reason to be there.”

Will considers that. Wonders how long Hannibal has been thinking of that possibility. He nods, then kisses the top of Hannibal’s head. 

“I’ll come, then,” Will says. “Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

Hannibal shrugs. “It felt like an odd time. And I didn’t want you to feel pressured into joining in the moment, nor did I want you to feel like that’s the only reason I wanted you there.”

“Baby, I know that’s not the only reason. Don’t worry,” Will says. “And that’s not the only reason I’m coming, either.”

“I know,” is all Hannibal says. 

“Sleep for a few more hours. It’s still early,” Will whispers. 

They finally get out of bed around half past ten. Hannibal cooks them breakfast and Will sits at the kitchen table watching him. Always so mesmerized by the way Hannibal moves around a kitchen. 

Hannibal shows off, throwing eggs in the air and cracking them on his spatula, and he winks at Will when he does. Will just smiles back, completely enamoured. 

As always, when Hannibal sets Will’s plate down, he kisses the top of Will’s head. 

After breakfast, and after the dogs are fed, they get into Will’s car. Hannibal drives, and Will holds his hand, occasionally bringing it to his mouth to kiss Hannibal’s knuckles. Hannibal smiles faintly every time Will does it. 

They don’t hold hands walking into the building, and good thing too, because Freddie Lounds is walking out the doors as they are walking in. 

“Agent Graham and Doctor Lecter,” Freddie says, a mocking tone in her voice. 

“What are you doing here, Lounds?” Will asks. 

“Trying to convince Abigail she should let me do the book. Thanks to you she still won’t agree,” Freddie scoffs. 

“Good,” Will says and pushes at the back of Hannibal’s shoulders to get him walking again, leaving Freddie where she is. On the stairs, out of earshot from everyone else, Will mutters, “Still think you should have her for dinner.”

Hannibal reaches out and squeezes his hand, then whispers, “No.”

Abigail is happy to see them both, pulls them both into a hug at the same time. 

“I haven’t seen either of you since the hospital,” she says when she lets them go. “Thought you were leaving me here to rot.”

“Of course not.” Hannibal says with a smile. “We actually wanted to discuss how you would feel about leaving this place.”

“Permanently,” Will adds. Hannibal and Will both sit down in the chairs in Abigail’s room while she sits down on her bed.

“When?” Abigail asks, voice hopeful. 

“We are going to talk to Alana on Friday,” Hannibal says. “Maybe you can be out by Christmas if she agrees with us.”

“Where would I go?” 

“You can live with me for the time being,” Hannibal answers. “If you decide you wish to go to school, then you may.” 

“I think I want to study abroad,” Abigail says quietly. 

“Then you shall. Whenever you are ready,” Hannibal says. “Depending on which school you choose, you may be accepted before the spring semester if you send out applications in the next week or so.”

Abigail nods. “I’ve actually sent a few out. Doctor Bloom helped me. She said it would be good for me to have my sights set on the future.”

“And she would be right. I take it she would be quite agreeable to taking you out of here soon, then?” Hannibal asks. 

Abigail shrugs. “I think she wants me to wait a while, and defer any acceptance I get, but maybe you can convince her otherwise. She doesn’t think I would have a stable enough support system right now, or something like that.”

“We’ll talk to her,” Will says. “So what schools did you have in mind?”

“I went to England with my parents a few years ago on a trip. I was considering going out there.”

“Why not somewhere in France or Italy?” Hannibal asks wistfully. “Oh, you would love Florence. Or Paris.”

“Alright, baby, just because you want to be there, doesn’t mean Abigail does,” Will laughs. “She likes England. Take her to Italy or France on vacation.”

“A family vacation,” Hannibal says. “Very well. You go to your English school, and Will and I will visit you during your spring break and take you all across Europe.”

“Will we?” Will asks. “I might not have a break at the same time.”

“Then don’t teach at all that term,” Hannibal says. “It is really quite simple, Will.”

“No. Hannibal, it’s not,” Will says. “And beside that, it would be really obvious to everyone if we go on a vacation together, don’t you think?”

“Get your lectures for the week covered,” Hannibal says. “And we tell them we are visiting Abigail.”

“And what happens if, oh I don’t know, Alana decides she also wants to come see Abigail and she thinks it’s just some friendly vacation between all of us. I mean we may be Abigail’s fathers in a sense, but Alana is definitely a mother figure,” Will points out. “She’d find it weird if you and I share a hotel room with only one bed.”

“Then you get Alana to cover your lectures so she cannot, darling,” Hannibal says. 

“Jesus, you guys argue like an old married couple,” Abigail says. 

Will’s face goes red and Hannibal looks like he’s about to say something but decides against it. 

“We saw Freddie Lounds coming out of the building as we were walking in,” Hannibal says after a moment. “Has she been bothering you?” 

“She still wants to write the book and keeps trying to tell me Will only tells me not to so he doesn’t look insane,” Abigail says. “I told her neither or you guys or Doctor Bloom think I should do it.”

“I’m going to see if we can get her blacklisted from visiting you,” Will says. 

“That would be nice. Thank you,” Abigail says. 

Not too long after, Hannibal and Will take their leave, going to Hannibal’s house. 

“Come in for a bit?” Hannibal asks when they pull into the driveway.

Will shakes his head. “Errands to run, dog food to make. If I come in I won’t leave.” 

“Okay,” Hannibal says. “Thursday in my office? Unless you want to see me sooner.”

“You can come over any night, just call,” Will says. “Or I’ll come to you.” 

“I know you don’t prefer to,” Hannibal says. “The drive is no trouble for me, and you have the dogs to worry about. I’ll come to your house. Tuesday?” 

“Tuesday,” Will agrees. When leans over and kisses Hannibal. Hannibal brings his hands to cup Will’s cheeks while he kisses back. When their mouths part, Hannibal noses at Will’s jaw, then kisses his throat. Will wants to take back what he said, and go into Hannibal’s house, but he forces himself to have some restraint. 

“I shall see you soon, love,” Hannibal whispers. Then he’s getting out of the car and Will is watching him walk up to his front door. He only drives away once Hannibal is inside and his front door is shut again.

* * *

After Will pulls away, Hannibal goes straight to his basement, gathering supplies for the kill he put off. He still did his stakeout the previous Tuesday, after dinner and the tattoo session with Jack. He has learned all of his victim’s patterns, and he is going to kill tomorrow. 

On Monday when he gets home from the office, he goes back downstairs to make sure everything is set to go.

He remembers Will asking to be told about these kills. And Hannibal said he would tell him, too. Not Ripper kills, of course, but this won’t be attributed to the Ripper. With a sigh he dials Will’s phone number. 

“Hey, is everything okay?” Will answers. His voice is distant, and Hannibal figures he is connected to the bluetooth in his car.

“Yes, of course. You are alone, right?” Hannibal asks.

“Yeah, I’m driving home from Quantico,” Will answers. “What’s up babe?”

“I am going to kill tonight. I wanted you to know,” Hannibal says after a moment. 

He can hear Will’s sharp intake of breath and is about to cancel the whole thing, knowing that Will is not happy about it. 

But then Will says, “Okay. Please don’t get caught, baby. I know you’re good at this, but fuck. I need you, you know. I, um, how long do you think it’s going to take? Like when will you get home?” 

“I’ll leave home around ten. I will do some work, and then go to where I will leave the body, then return home. I should make it home by two or three,” Hannibal says. He tries to sound as ambiguous as possible, not wanting Will to know he’s doing the work at his own house. That would raise too many questions, and with Miriam Lass in his basement, he would not be able to show Will his work area should he be asked to.

“Okay. Would it be terrible if I asked you to come to my house when you’re done? Just. Just so I know,” Will says quietly. 

“I can do that.”

“Thank you. I just worry about you. I’d rather know you’re home safe with me,” Will says.

Hannibal’s heart clenches at Will referring to his house, as well as himself, as Hannibal’s home. In a way, it’s really become that way. Hannibal’s own house is just a place to sleep after work and a place to work on some of his kills. Neither of which have been happening a lot lately. His home is wherever Will is now.

“I understand, darling. I’ll let myself in tonight. Please don’t stay up, I’ll wake you when I get there,” Hannibal says. “I have to go for now. Much to prepare.”

“Okay. Be safe,” Will pleads. “Bye, Hannibal.”

“Goodbye, my love.”

* * *

Will hangs up the phone and spends the next several hours worrying about Hannibal. He tries to pass the time, but his thoughts keep circling back. His mind keeps telling him that Hannibal is going to be caught and that there is nothing he can do about it.

Over the course of the rest of the evening, he tries to stay busy. He tries to eat something for dinner, but his stomach is twisted in anxious knots and he can barely get anything down. 

After a while, he just curls up on the couch with a book, but he can’t focus on that either. Eventually he falls asleep, warm and cozy under several blankets, and the space heater a few feet away.

His couch nap only lasts an hour and by then it’s not even eight pm. He turns on the TV, but barely pays attention to what is on. He absentmindedly pets Winston on the head while he watches and he waits until he’s tired enough to get in bed, but that doesn’t happen.

Hannibal calls just before ten, when Will is still wrapped up in several blankets on the couch, watching a movie that he has paid no attention to. 

“Hello, Will,” Hannibal says as soon as Will answers. “I wanted to check in with you. How are you?”

“Nervous,” Will answers honestly. “I took a nap. Couldn’t eat dinner tonight. I’ll probably get in bed soon.”

“I’ll be with you in just a few hours. Try and get some sleep, love,” Hannibal says. 

“I’ll try,” Will sighs. “Do you have to hang up yet?”

“I have some time,” Hannibal answers. “Everything is going to be perfectly fine, darling. You truly have nothing to worry about.”

“I believe you, and I trust you, but I am worried, still. I can’t control it.” 

“I know,” Hannibal responds. 

“Distract me for a minute,” Will requests. “Tell me anything.”

“Hm. Well,” Hannibal pauses for a second. “I do have a patient I could tell you about.”

“Breaking confidentiality, doctor?” Will asks.

“Technically, no. He has been growing increasingly… interested in me,” Hannibal says. “It is quite odd. He has shown up to several of the same events as I have in the last couple of months. And that is… bothersome considering I have barely even gotten out. He is just always there.”

“Is he stalking you?”

“Possibly, but he’s no physical threat. You’ll likely meet him one day,” Hannibal says. “He shops at the same grocery store in Baltimore as I do. He eats a lot of cheese.”

Will laughs. “Do you think he has a crush on you?”

“It’s quite likely.”

“I better watch out, then,” Will jokes. “You and I both know you have a thing for patients.”

“Will,” Hannibal sighs. “You were never really my patient.”

“I know. I'm just joking around.”

“Yes, well. Do not worry about this man,” Hannibal says. 

“I won’t. When do you think I’ll end up meeting him? Might do him some good to know you’re taken,” Will says. 

“Hm. The opera next month is quite likely,” Hannibal says. “I’m unsure if he’ll get the hint or if he’ll just become obsessed with you, as well.” 

“You could always have him for dinner.”

“Will,” Hannibal says. “Absolutely not.” 

Will tries to suppress a yawn, then, but Hannibal catches it. 

“Love, go to bed,” Hannibal says. “I will be there as soon as I can.”

“I will after I let the dogs out,” Will says. “See you soon.” 

Will hangs up, and takes care of the dogs. He strips down to his underwear and climbs into bed, falling into a fitful sleep. 

* * *

Hannibal finishes his call with Will and gets into the car he uses for such occasions. He waits on the road his victim drives home each night. He’s a piano player at a restaurant Hannibal has gone to once or twice, but not in many years. The man blew smoke in his face one night while Hannibal was walking out of the building.

He already made sure the car would break down in the area, and sure enough, while he’s waiting at the side of the road, obscured by trees, the car slows to a stop on the shoulder. Hannibal pulls out of his hiding place and gets out of his own car, offering help. This is a method he uses often because it works.

The man starts to panic when he realizes Hannibal is walking toward him, focused on him, rather than the car. Just as they always do. But he doesn’t run. Hannibal jabs a needle into the man’s neck and drags him back to his car, tying up his hands and feet, just in case he should wake. 

Hannibal pulls into his garage and carries the body down to his basement, restrains him, then waits for the man to wake up before he starts cutting into him.

The screams fill the basement, the pleads for Hannibal to stop as his kidneys are being removed, one and then the other. Hannibal sighs and decides he’s far too annoyed, and it’s not as if it matters much to make all mutilations before death, seeing as this isn’t a Ripper kill. so he puts the man out of his misery by snapping his neck. 

Then he makes quick work of removing the heart, lungs, and intestines, vacuum sealing them, and putting everything in the freezer he doesn’t plan on eating in the next week. 

The kill isn’t his typical method, nor does it take the time he normally puts into it, but he has Will on his mind tonight. While drawing it out brings him great joy, he feels satisfied with the work he did tonight. And this one won’t even be found, most likely. 

He drives the remaining body out to the woods, to a location he followed the other killer to one night. When he went back on his own, after watching the man bury a body, he found there to be several graves in the area. He brings the body and a shovel out, digs a grave just like the other nine that he knows of, and dumps it there. 

Luckily, it’s been warm all day, and the ground isn’t completely frozen with it being a week until Christmas. It helps that the other killer has been around and has been keeping the soil loose. Planning on more kills, likely. 

The shovel gets left, he stole it anyway, and there’s nothing to link it back to him. He considers calling in an anonymous tip about the area, but decides against it. 

He brushes the dirt off of his plastic suit, and heads back to his car. He carefully removes the suit before driving away. Deciding to save some time he leaves the car in storage, then drives directly to Will’s in his Bentley, instead of going home first. 

It’s nearly three by the time he makes it there. He parks in the barn, then lets himself inside, greeting the dogs as they swarm him. After locking the door, and removing his coat and shoes, he finally gets a look at Will across the room. 

He’s thrashing in his sleep, laying on his stomach, body tangled in blankets. As Hannibal gets closer, he realizes Will is mumbling in his sleep. 

“Hannibal,” he murmurs. “Jack, no. Please, let him go.”

More thrashing, then a loud, “No!” 

Hannibal places a hand on Will’s back and rubs lightly between his shoulder blades. 

Will wakes with a start and turns, sitting up and scrambling back towards the headboard. He’s breathing heavily and shaking and Hannibal just watches him, waiting for him to remember where he is.

His face softens and looks relieved when he realizes Hannibal is standing in front of him.

“Hey,” Will says, as if none of that just happened, as if he has been fine this entire time. “Have you been here long? Take off your clothes, get in bed.”

“Only a few minutes,” Hannibal answers, and starts removing his suit. He drapes all of his clothes over a chair, and gets into bed in just his underwear. “Nightmares?”

Will nods, rolling over to rest his head on Hannibal’s chest. 

“Did everything go okay tonight?” Will asks.

“Yes,” Hannibal says. 

“When is the body going to be found, you think?”

Hannibal considers if he should tell Will about a mass burial site, how he would react, if he would tell Hannibal to call it in, or not. He decides to be honest. 

“I left it somewhere a man has been dumping bodies for likely years now. At least nine other graves, though I suspect more,” Hannibal murmurs, wrapping an arm around Will. 

“You know about a mass burial site, and you’re just keeping it to yourself?” Will asks, disbelief in his tone. A hint of a hard edge, as if he would be angry in other circumstances. 

Hannibal opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again, and just says, “Yes.”

“You’re lucky I like you,” Will says, snuggling closer to Hannibal. “If you were to call it in, would you have left any evidence behind?”

“No. I take all sorts of precautions. I left a shovel there on purpose.”

“Why?” The word is caught on a yawn.

“So the other killer knows that he is being watched. To taunt him, I suppose,” Hannibal shrugs. “To see what happens.” 

Will hums in response, then lifts his head and gives Hannibal a kiss. 

“I’m glad you came back to me,” Will says.

“I always will,” Hannibal responds. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter for today. This one mostly helps introduce a few things that are going to happen in upcoming chapters, so maybe not that interesting, but there are big things coming up soon. Let me know if you’re still interested in this story! Comments are very appreciated.
> 
> Also!! Looks like I finally have an idea of how many chapters this is going to be, but it may be a few more than that, depending on how long I make certain scenes. Most likely will not be less than 28, though.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took longer than I hoped it would. I have had the inability to focus on anything this entire week, but hey, I got it done. Hopefully chapter 15 won’t take an entire week to write.

When Will wakes up to his alarm, Hannibal is curled around his body, mouth open, drooling on Will’s chest. Sleeping like the dead. Will shakes him gently, tries to slide out from under him, but Hannibal’s arm tightens around his waist. 

“Are you awake?” Will asks. 

Hannibal makes an incoherent comment, then snuggles closer to Will. 

“I have to get up,” Will says. 

“Don’t you have an hour?” Hannibal asks, accent thick, eyes still closed. 

“No, I turned off that alarm for this morning. It’s seven now,” Will answers. He runs his fingers through Hannibal’s hair and lets the man cling to him for another thirty seconds before he extracts himself from his arms. “Let’s shower.”

“My first appointment is not until eleven. I will shower at home,” Hannibal says. He rolls onto his side and pulls the blanket up over his head. “I love you, and would love a shower with you but I would rather have two more hours of sleep if it is an option.”

“Well. Lock up when you leave,” Will sighs. 

“Of course,” Hannibal mumbles. “Kiss me before you go.”

“Do you have an alarm set?” Will asks. 

“Yes,” Hannibal says into the pillow. “Am I still coming over tonight?”

“If you want,” Will says, gathering clothes from his drawers to take into the bathroom. “If you want to stay home and get some sleep I won’t blame you.”

“I’ll come over, but I may fall asleep on the couch tonight.”

“I can’t carry you to bed,” Will says. 

He kisses Hannibal’s head through the blankets then goes into the bathroom. He goes through his morning routine, dresses himself, then puts the dogs outside while he starts making coffee. 

Hannibal shuffles into the kitchen in just his stupid silk underwear and stands in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes are tired, his shoulders slumped, hair messy. 

“Eat breakfast,” he mumbles. 

“Go back to bed,” Will tells him. He picks up an apple off the counter and holds it up to show Hannibal he’s eating, then takes a bite. 

“I’m going to call Miss Katz and tell her to take you for lunch,” Hannibal says, going back into the living room. Will follows him out while the coffee is brewing so he can let the dogs back inside. 

Hannibal is actually holding his phone to his ear while he lays in bed. “Beverly, I hope I am not interrupting anything.”

There’s a pause and then Hannibal says, “I’m going to send Will to work with some money and if it is not too much trouble, I was wondering if you could drag him out for lunch.”

Another pause, then Hannibal winks at Will and says, “Excellent. Thank you.”

Hannibal hangs up the phone, throws it onto the mattress next to him, then leans over the edge of the bed to pick up his pants and dig for his wallet. Will goes back into the kitchen to pour himself his coffee and gather his laptop and bag.

Will is about to walk out the front door when Hannibal clears his throat. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something, darling?”

“I’m not taking your money,” Will says. 

“Hm, you promised me a kiss,” Hannibal says, raising his eyebrow. 

Will sighs, sets his coffee by the door, and walks across the room. He leans down next to the bed, trying to kiss Hannibal, but Hannibal grabs Will around the waist and pulls him down on top of him. Will just barely drops his bag before it can hit Hannibal in the head. 

“Fuck,” Will yells as he goes down. When he’s settled on top of Hannibal, he looks down at his sleepy face, and says, “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” Hannibal asks innocently. “Hug you?”

“Don’t grab me and pull me into the bed when I’m carrying things. You’re lucky I already set my coffee down,” Will says. 

“I wouldn’t have done it if you were carrying your coffee, Will.” 

Will kisses Hannibal then attempts to pull away, but Hannibal’s still holding him. 

“You have some time,” Hannibal whispers. His hands travel to cup Will’s ass, pulling him down just as his own hips shift upwards.

“Not enough time for what you’re suggesting,” Will whispers back. He kisses Hannibal again, gives a teasing roll of his hips, then feels Hannibal’s hands slip into his back pockets. “Did you just put money in my pocket?”

“Of course not,” Hannibal says. He lets go of Will, allowing him to get up. “I will see you later, love.” 

Will leaves after that, checks his back pockets on his way out to his car and finds a hundred dollar bill folded inside one of them. 

He sighs and puts it into his wallet before driving to Quantico. 

He gets a text from Hannibal at 9:30 saying the house is locked and the dogs are inside. 

Around noon, Beverly shows up to his lecture hall just as he’s finishing up his slides. 

“He gave me a hundred bucks for lunch,” Will mutters while they’re walking out to his car. “Where did you wanna go?”

“Anywhere is fine with me,” Beverly says. 

So Will picks a nearby restaurant and Beverly sits across from him, looking like she wants to say something. She just keeps looking at him, and he looks back. 

Finally, Will says, “Out with it.”

“Jimmy,” Beverly says. 

“Ah. Yeah Jimmy saw us Saturday night,” Will says with a sigh. “Hannibal didn’t seem too thrilled.”

“And what about you? How thrilled are you?”

“I made us leave right after because it just felt like too big of a risk to be out in public,” Will says. “On one hand I hate having to hide and I wish we could just have a normal relationship, but on the other hand I don’t like people finding out.”

“It’s different telling someone on your own terms than it is them seeing you out together,” Beverly says. “Jimmy isn’t going to tell anyone.”

“I know he’s not. I’m just worried that Hannibal doesn’t believe him,” Will says. “I mean, it’ll look worse for him than it will for me.”

“You know Jack probably won’t actually care, right?”

“Not a risk I’m currently willing to take,” Will answers. “Hannibal has his reasons, too, I’m sure.” 

After lunch, Will is done for the day and heads home after dropping Beverly off at Quantico. 

Will lays down in bed and scrolls through his phone for a while before getting out his laptop and checking his email. 

After a while he starts to doze off and wakes again when the bed dips and an arm comes around his waist. Hannibal kisses Will’s cheek and buries his face in his neck and they fall asleep together without any words. 

Will’s dreams take a different turn than they usually do. This one no longer has him killing Abigail, and it’s not like last night’s when Hannibal got caught and he was pleading for Jack Crawford to let him go.

This nightmare has him facing Hannibal, standing in Hannibal’s kitchen, a knife slicing across his lower abdomen. Gutting him. Just like Abigail did to Nicholas Boyle. Holding him up as he cries out in pain and feels his body tear open. 

Hannibal lets him slump down to the floor as he bleeds out. Will cries, pleading, trying to hold his body together with his hands.

“You should have known,” Hannibal says, his body covered in blood, tears coming down his face. “That my love could only last so long.”

“No, no,” Will pleads. “You can’t mean that. You can’t.” 

“Why do you even care? It’s not as though you feel the same. I’m a monster, Will. I know you don’t love me back,” Hannibal says, leaning down so his mouth is just inches from Will’s.

Will is shaking uncomfortably, there’s too much pressure on his abdomen, it feels like his head is being petted, but he’s stuck on the floor in Hannibal’s kitchen, unable to do anything.

“Will,” Hannibal’s voice says. 

That’s when he wakes up, still somewhat stuck in his dream, sees Hannibal and has to scramble away. Get away. Get away from the man who would try and kill him when his love runs out.

“Love, come here,” Hannibal whispers. 

Will shakes his head and gets out of the bed, takes a look around. He’s in his own house, his bed. Not bleeding on Hannibal’s floor. And Hannibal is watching him with concern in his eyes. 

Breathing heavy, Will digs the heels of his hands into his closed eyes. 

His voice is small when he says, “Tell me you’d never hurt me. Tell me you love me. Please.”

“I love you, and will never intentionally hurt you,” Hannibal says. “Come here. Tell me what happened.”

So Will climbs back into the bed, sits between Hannibal’s legs with his back to Hannibal’s chest, and tells him. 

“I don’t know why I had that dream,” Will whispers when he finishes telling him. He does know. He knows it’s because he doesn’t truly know what Hannibal is capable of, what lengths he’s willing to go to, or if he’ll stick around when Will can’t tell him how he feels. Will knows exactly why he had the dream. Because he’s scared. 

“Last night was the first time I have killed since we began our relationship, and your subconscious is scared of what I am and what I do, even if you don’t believe yourself to be,” Hannibal whispers. “I can assure you that you will never see that side of me unless you choose to. It will never be directed toward you.”

Will nods and turns in Hannibal’s arms so he can kiss him.

“Dinner?” Will asks.

“Of course.”

* * *

Hannibal cooks them dinner and watches Will for the remainder of the night. The way he’s hesitant about Hannibal’s touch, the way he flinches when Hannibal picks up a knife to use for dinner preparations. 

Will’s eyes carry an apologetic look after that particular instance, and it’s clear none of it is voluntary. He clearly doesn’t want to be frightened by Hannibal, but he is now. And Hannibal knows that means he needs to blind Will to the Ripper even harder now. Because Will would likely never touch him again if he finds out. 

After dinner, Hannibal stretches out on the couch, an invitation for Will to lay down on top of him, but Will sits down in one of the armchairs instead. It takes an hour of TV before Will finally moves out of the chair and settles down on Hannibal, laying on top of him, his head on Hannibal’s chest.

Hannibal is dozing off when it happens, and makes a confused noise when the man’s weight pushes him into the couch. 

“Will,” he murmurs sleepily. “My love.”

Will doesn’t respond, but he gets his arms under Hannibal to squeeze him tight. Holding on for dear life, it seems. Hannibal rubs his hands up and down Will’s back and kisses the top of his head. 

“I don’t think I want to have a session this week,” Will says after a while. 

Hannibal frowns. “No?”

“No,” Will sighs. “Can I just… come over instead? Spend the night with you?”

“If you would like,” Hannibal murmurs. That’s a relief. He was thinking that Will didn’t want to see him at all, but that’s not the case.

Will nods against his chest and Hannibal hugs him tight. 

Hannibal’s eyes slip shut again at some point, letting Will’s weight on top of him push him into sleep. He wakes again to Will shaking on top of him, sniffles coming from the man. There’s a wet spot on his shirt under Will’s head. 

“Will?” Hannibal whispers. 

Will clears his throat. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?” Hannibal asks.

“‘m fine,” Will mumbles. He starts getting up, off of Hannibal, but Hannibal just sits up with him, sees the tears drying on his face, his red eyes. 

Hannibal brushes the tears away with his thumbs and leans forward to kiss Will’s forehead. He doesn't think Will is going to tell him the problem, so he doesn’t ask again. He has a feeling the problem is himself, anyway. 

“I’m going to bed,” Will says. “Can you let the dogs out?”

Hannibal pushes Will’s hair away from his face and nods. He watches Will get up from the couch and go into the bathroom. Hannibal gets up and calls the dogs toward the door, putting them outside and standing on the porch with his hands in his pockets. 

Back inside, Will is stripping down to his underwear and crawling into bed just as Hannibal shuts the door behind him.

Will pulls the blankets up over his head. There’s a bottle of aspirin sitting on the nightstand next to an empty glass of water. 

Hannibal takes the glass and refills it in the kitchen before turning off all the lights. Will makes a noise that could almost be ‘thanks,’ when Hannibal sets the refilled glass back down, but he doesn’t emerge from underneath the blankets. Hannibal gets undressed and gets into bed next to him, laying on his side facing him.

He doesn’t expect much, but Will still rolls over and buries his face into Hannibal’s chest. 

“Sorry,” Will whispers. “I’m not upset or anything, my head just hurts really bad.” 

Hannibal kisses his head through the blanket and wraps his arms around him, holding him close. 

“How many classes do you have tomorrow?” Hannibal asks.

“Just the one.”

“Cancel it and sleep in. Your brain is still recovering.”

Will just nods into Hannibal’s chest. 

* * *

In the morning, after barely sleeping, Will finds his laptop and cancels his lecture before Hannibal is even awake. He gets back into bed, head still pounding, and drinks the glass of water Hannibal set down the previous night and closes his eyes again.

Hannibal’s alarm goes off and Will sits up, watching as Hannibal rolls out of bed and heads for the shower. He waits a few minutes until he hears the water running before he gets out of bed, kicking his underwear off on the way to the bathroom. 

He knocks, unsure if Hannibal wants company or not, and listens. 

“Come in, darling,” Hannibal's voice calls over the spray of the water. 

Will steps in the bathroom and gets into the shower behind Hannibal. He rests his head against the older man’s back, right between his shoulder blades, and wraps his arms around his waist. 

“Are you feeling any better this morning?” Hannibal asks. 

“No,” Will sighs. 

“Mm. Let me wash your hair for you,” Hannibal says, and spins them around so Will is actually under the spray of the water. He has Will face him, studies his face before saying, “You need to sleep more.”

“Not entirely possible,” Will mumbles. He moans when Hannibal starts massaging shampoo into his scalp, easing some of the tension in his head. “I take naps when I can, but nightmares keep me up. You know that.”

“I could prescribe you something,” Hannibal suggests. 

“No,” Will says, shaking his head. “I’m fine.”

“If you change your mind, let me know.” 

Will shakes his head. He won’t change his mind. He doesn’t want to have to rely on sleeping pills. He doesn’t want Hannibal to get in trouble once their relationship becomes public. He’s not desperate enough for a good night's sleep. 

“Do you have your late appointment tonight?” Will asks. 

“Yes, but I can come over after if you’d like,” Hannibal says. He reaches for the conditioner and works it through Will’s wet curls. Will closes his eyes and nods, then rests his forehead against Hannibal’s chest. 

Will can’t focus on anything but the pain in his head and the hot water flowing down his back. Hannibal’s fingers end up back in his hair, no doubt helping rinse out the conditioner, but Will barely even notices. 

He doesn’t understand how a serial killer can be so gentle and kind to him. It’s been on his mind all night and he’s sure thinking of it is what brought on the headache in the first place. Part of him feels like Hannibal is just putting up a front for him, making him believe he’s actually this caring, just so he can turn on him later.

“Will,” Hannibal whispers. He rubs his hands up and down Will’s back, making soft shushing noises. Will realizes he’s crying again and just wraps his arms around Hannibal’s body and holds on tight. 

One hand leaves Will’s back and the water gets shut off, then Will is being directed out of the shower. 

Hannibal wraps a towel around him, then gently pushes him out of the bathroom and back to the bed. Will crawls in, still wrapped in the towel, hair still wet, and lays down. Hannibal kisses his forehead, then picks up his phone and disappears into the kitchen, just a towel wrapped around his hips. 

Part of Will is screaming that Hannibal is dangerous, that he needs to be turned into the FBI. The other part of Will, the part that’s winning the fight, can’t let Hannibal go. And the internal battle is tearing him apart. 

This just makes him curl up on his side and cry harder, unable to fully rationalize the idea of being in a relationship with a serial killer. Unable to understand why Hannibal is more important to him than all the lives he could be saving instead. The thoughts make his head pound, and his chest clench. 

After a few minutes, Hannibal gets into bed next to Will and pulls him into his chest.

Will takes a shaky breath, clears his throat. “Don’t you have to leave?”

“No,” Hannibal whispers. “I cancelled my appointments today.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Will protests. 

“I’m worried about you,” Hannibal murmurs. “Would you like to tell me what is troubling you? It’s not just the headache.”

Will shakes his head and buries his face into Hannibal’s chest. Hannibal pulls the towel out from under Will’s body and wraps it around his hair, ruffling it to dry Will like one would with a dog. 

“I’m just being stupid,” Will whispers after a minute.

“I don’t believe that.” 

“It’s not like it changes anything,” Will prefaces. “I mean… What I’m thinking about, it’s not…” 

Will shakes his head and swallows. Hannibal holds him tight, tangles fingers in Will’s hair.

He’s waiting for Will to speak.

“I think I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around you,” Will finally says. He doesn’t say anything else. It feels dumb, and he doesn’t think he can really explain it in a way that actually matters. 

“Are you having second thoughts?” Hannibal asks. 

“No, no. God no,” Will says. For good measure, “No.”

Hannibal stays silent, waiting. Always waiting because he knows Will is always going to say something else if he just waits. Will knows that’s what he’s doing, and he’s always right.

“I’m with you,” Will says. “For as long as you’ll have me. And that’s what scares me.”

“I’ll have you forever. Is that so scary?”

“No, the scary part is that you could get bored of me, and get rid of me, and add my to your fridge,” Will whispers. He almost hopes Hannibal doesn’t hear any of it, but of course he does.

“Ah,” Hannibal says in understanding. “I won’t kill you.”

“You say that now, but-” Will starts.

Hannibal cuts him off. “No,” he says firmly. Almost raising his voice, but not quite. The tone rattles Will. “Stop with that line of thinking right now.” 

“I can’t shut it off,” Will says. “My job is to get inside the heads of people like you. I know how this can go.”

“You can rest assured knowing that I am not like those other killers,” Hannibal says. 

Will sighs. “I’m just saying. One day I’m going to push too many buttons, or I might let something slip to someone I shouldn’t, and you’re going to kill me for it.”

“Did you ever consider that I could just kill whoever you tell something you shouldn’t?” Hannibal asks. “Instead of you, I mean.”

Will frowns but doesn’t answer that. Instead he says, “I think I’m having a hard time with how gentle and… loving you are with me.”

“Would you prefer I wasn’t?” Hannibal asks.

“I don’t know. I know it’s not you,” Will mumbles. 

“It’s me when I am with you,” Hannibal says. “I am capable of violence, yes. I am capable of love, too.” 

“How long can you keep the violence under the surface? You’re bound to crack,” Will says. He rolls away from Hannibal and stares up at the ceiling. “I know there’s a monster in you. It bothers me that I haven’t seen it.”

“It’s the uncertainty that bothers you,” Hannibal says. “Come with me next time I kill. See for yourself.”

“And then I’ll just have a real reason to be scared of you. At least with uncertainty I can pretend you’re someone you’re not.”

“Who I am with you now is who I will always be with you,” Hannibal says. He pushes Will’s hair out of his eyes and kisses his forehead. “Your hair is getting long.”

“Yeah, I'll get a haircut soon,” Will mumbles.

“Not too short, I hope,” Hannibal says. 

He can tell Hannibal likes his curls, likes knotting his fingers in them, likes being able to push them out of Will’s face because it’s an excuse to touch him. Will wonders how Hannibal would feel if he got his hair cut really short. He wonders if Hannibal will kill him if he shaves his head. He wants to test the theory, if he’s being honest. Just to prove a point. 

“No, not too short,” Will lies. He rolls over and pushes Hannibal so he can sit on top of him. He looks down at him for a minute, trying to decide where he wants to go from here. 

“Mm. Yes, Will?” Hannibal asks, raising an eyebrow. He runs his hands up Will’s bare thighs.

Will leans forward and kisses Hannibal, hands on either side of his head. 

“I thought you weren’t feeling well this morning,” Hannibal says against Will’s lips.

“I’m fine, and I’m tired of talking,” Will says, and kisses Hannibal again. “And we haven’t had sex in a while.” 

“Yes, if I recall, you fell asleep last time we tried,” Hannibal says with a smile. He rolls them both over and holds himself up on his hands, hips grinding down slowly. Will pushes his hips up, his cock coming to attention as it drags against Hannibal’s. “What would you like?” 

“Anything. Just make me come, and maybe I’ll be able to sleep,” Will says. 

“As I said, I can prescribe you something,” Hannibal murmurs. He kisses Will’s neck and rolls his hips. 

“An orgasm will do just fine,” Will says. 

“Anything?” Hannibal asks, picking up on Will’s answer. He raises an eyebrow. 

“Maybe not  _ anything, _ but I trust you to judge that,” Will says. “I don’t care. Fuck me if you want.”

“I cannot believe I told my patients I was having a family emergency just for you to be completely fine now,” Hannibal says. “And demanding sex, no less.” 

“I’m not demanding,” Will protests. “And I didn’t ask you to stay home.”

“No, I suppose you’re right on both accounts,” Hannibal says. 

Hannibal pushes himself up and crawls across the mattress to open the nightstand drawer on Will’s side of the bed. Will spreads his legs so Hannibal can settle on his knees between them. 

Just as Hannibal starts to push a slick finger into Will, there’s a knock on the front door. Loud, pounding knock. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” Will groans. “Maybe if we ignore them, they’ll go away?” 

Will turns his head toward the door, where the dogs are milling about, sniffing at the door and barking.

“Shit!” Will yells. He pushes Hannibal’s hand away, his fingers slipping out of him and he sits up. He scrambles off the bed and pulls on a pair of underwear from the floor, then Hannibal’s robe that he keeps next to the bed. “The curtains are open. You need to hide.” 

“Whoever it is might see me if I run upstairs,” Hannibal says. 

“Uhh,” Will says, thinking as he looks around. Then he pushes Hannibal’s down on the mattress and pulls a blanket over his head. “Pretend to be asleep.” 

Will adjusts himself in his underwear (which he realizes are actually Hannibal’s), pulls the robe around himself and goes to the door. 

“Jack,” Will says when he opens it. The dogs run outside the second the storm door is unlatched. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“You weren’t at Quantico today and your phone kept going straight to voicemail. Can I come in? I had a few things I wanted to discuss with you,” Jack says. 

Will glances toward Hannibal laying unmoving under the blankets. 

“I’m, uh,” Will looks back at Jack. “My partner’s here. Sleeping.” 

“Oh,” Jack says, curiosity on his face. 

“We can go in the kitchen if we’re quiet,” Will suggests. “Sorry, rough morning for both of us.”

“Is everything okay?” Jack asks. 

Will moves out of the doorway to let Jack in, and gestures toward the kitchen. Will glances over at Hannibal pretending to sleep, laying on his stomach under the blankets. He hopes Jack doesn’t look too hard and notice that Will’s partner is the exact height and build as Will’s psychiatrist. 

“Yeah,” Will says, thinking fast. He comes up with a fake story to throw Jack entirely off Hannibal’s trail. “He works nights, and has loud roommates at home, so he comes here to sleep during the day sometimes, and I’ve been having headaches, so that’s why I stayed home today.” 

“How has your health been otherwise? I know you’re doing less lectures now than normal,” Jack says, sitting down at the kitchen table. 

“I’ve been fine. Headaches come and go. Last night and this morning were especially bad,” Will shrugs. 

“I wanted to see how you’re feeling about fieldwork.”

“I was considering coming back after Christmas,” Will says. He goes to the coffee maker and starts brewing a pot. He stands next to it, pulling the robe tighter and tying it better. The underwear he’s wearing keeps slipping down from his hips. He crosses his arms over his chest so the robe can’t come untied and fall open, like it keeps threatening to do. 

He doesn’t need Jack to see him in silk boxer briefs. 

“That works for us,” Jack nods. “I’m assuming Doctor Lecter told you about the arrangement we have planned.”

“Yeah, he told me he’s babysitting me on cases for the time being,” Will sighs. “Do you think it’s necessary?”

“Him and I both agreed it would be a good idea,” Jack says. “It’ll be better for you. I know you feel comfortable with him.”

_ You have no idea,  _ Will thinks. 

“Yeah, I guess so,” Will says instead. He pours himself a cup of coffee, then offers one to Jack who shakes his head. 

“I’ll let you get back to bed,” Jack says. “Hope you feel better. I’ll call about any cases after Christmas. And plug in your phone.”

“Yeah, yeah. Maybe I let it die so people can’t contact me, ever think of that?” Will asks, only half joking, as he walks Jack to the door. Last night, he really wasn’t himself and was thinking more about wanting to die because of the pounding in his head than he was about plugging in his phone. 

Jack smiles, then opens the front door and leaves, letting Will shut it behind him after the dogs come back inside.

Will shuts all the curtains on the ground level of the house, then fills all the dogs bowls with food, deciding they’re good for the morning. He goes back into the living room and sighs. He’s really tired now.

Hannibal throws the blanket off of him and sits up, opening his arms for Will to come back to bed. Will takes off the robe, then pushes down the underwear and gets into the bed. 

“There’s coffee,” Will mumbles, crawling into Hannibal’s lap, facing him, his legs straightened out on either side of Hannibal’s hips. 

“If you’re trying to go back to sleep then you should not be drinking coffee, darling,” Hannibal whispers. He kisses Will’s jaw, then his cheek, then his lips. “But I have other things in mind for now.”

“I don’t think I’m in the mood anymore,” Will says with a sigh. “Kind of a boner killer to talk about fieldwork with my boss.” 

“Mm. Okay,” Hannibal says. “If you change your mind, I will be here all day.”

Will laughs and gets out of Hannibal’s lap. He lays down next to him, pulling the blankets to his shoulders. Hannibal lays down too, and reaches out to push Will’s hair away from his eyes just as he always does. 

They end up falling asleep at some point, Will laying completely on top of Hannibal, Hannibal’s arms around him. 

At some point during the day, they both wake up, half-hard, and Will sits up and takes both of their cocks in one hand, stroking them until they both come. Moaning each other’s names, leaving a mess on Hannibal’s stomach. 

Without cleaning up, Will collapses on Hannibal’s body again and falls asleep. When he wakes up again, he’s on his back, and cleaned up, and Hannibal is nowhere to be seen. 

He gets up, pulls on underwear and a t-shirt and goes into the kitchen. Hannibal is sitting at the kitchen table with a book and a cup of coffee, in nothing but his underwear. 

“Good morning,” Hannibal says when Will walks in. “Or should I say almost evening?”

“What time is it?” Will asks with a yawn. 

“Nearly four pm.”

“Shit. Slept all day?” 

Hannibal nods. “I took care of the dogs and made fresh coffee. I’ll start dinner soon, but there’s options if you want something light before that.”

Will heads over to the coffee machine and pours himself a mug. “How long have you been up?” 

“An hour. Maybe a bit longer,” Hannibal shrugs. “I showered again, as well.”

“Yeah, you wiped me down without waking me up,” Will says. “I guess you’d have experience cleaning up limp bodies.”

“Yes,” Hannibal says. He doesn’t say anything else on the subject. 

“I told Jack you’re my partner that works nights and has loud roommates which is why you were sleeping here,” Will says when he sits down. “So he probably thinks I’m either dating a stripper or a grave digger.” 

“Will, my love, there are plenty of other night jobs besides those,” Hannibal says with a fond smile. “Such as an emergency room surgeon. Like I used to be.”

Will smiles. “Right. Well. So he thinks I have a doctor boyfriend, which is the exact opposite of what I wanted him to think.”

“Perhaps he does think I am a stripper. We will never know,” Hannibal says. He reaches out and squeezes Will’s hand. “Don’t worry, my love.”

“Okay. Okay,” Will nods. “I’m going back into the field after Christmas.”

Hannibal nods. “Are you looking forward to it?”

“No,” Will answers. “You’ll be there, though.”

“Yes, I will,” Hannibal says. “For as long as you need me. How would you feel about me tipping off the location of that mass burial site?”

Will squeezes Hannibal’s hand. “Only if you’re sure there’s nothing there that can link back to you.”

“I’m sure,” Hannibal answers. He lifts Will’s hand to kiss his knuckles. “I can even point you in the correct direction of the man who uses the site.”

“As long as it’s not obvious,” Will says. 

“I have a plan. I always do.”

Will trusts him enough that he just nods and hopes Hannibal isn’t about to fuck up their entire lives. 

Hannibal starts dinner a little bit after that, neither of them bothering to get dressed. They end up back in bed after, finishing what they started before Jack showed up. 

Will lays out on the bed, legs open with Hannibal between them. Hannibal stretches him open with his fingers before slowly pushing his cock in. 

Hannibal leans forehead and rests his forehead against Will’s and Will closes his eyes, letting Hannibal take the time he wants to take. Strong arms end up making their way underneath Will’s body and holding him tight as Hannibal begins a slow rock of his hips.

Will opens his eyes when something warm and wet falls in his face. 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Will asks. He wipes the tears away from Hannibal’s eyes, tilts his chin up and kisses him.

Hannibal shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“Hannibal. Tell me.” 

“I don’t deserve you,” Hannibal whispers. He kisses Will’s forehead, then his nose. “You’re scared of me, yet you open yourself up to me both in a physical sense like now, but in a mental capacity as well. Despite all your fear, you let me hold you in my arms and sleep in your bed, and make love to you, and I do not deserve that.”

“Yes, you do. Because I care about you and because you’re good to me,” Will whispers. “I believe you when you say you aren’t going to hurt me, okay? You deserve to be happy.”

Hannibal kisses him again, and again and again. 

When they both finish, and get cleaned up, Will sits against the headboard and pulls Hannibal toward him to sit between his legs, back against his chest. 

“Stop saying you don’t deserve me,” Will whispers into his ear. “Stop thinking that way.”

Hannibal turns his face so he can kiss Will’s cheek, then tilts his head back to rest against Will’s shoulder. 

“Hey,” Will says after a few minutes of silence. 

“Hm?” 

“I’m not going to come over tomorrow night, if that’s okay,” Will says. “I actually have some work to do, and I think I’ll schedule a haircut for tomorrow evening. It would be too much time to leave the dogs on their own.”

“I can come over tomorrow night,” Hannibal offers. 

Will shakes his head. “We’ll see each other Friday for dinner with Alana, right?”

“Yes. You’ll spend the night?”

“Yes,” Will says. He turns his face so he can kiss Hannibal’s cheek. Will sighs, and says, “You've been here all week and I like having you here, but I’m used to having time alone.”

“Of course, Will. You could have just said that,” Hannibal says. “I do understand the need for personal space.” 

“I know but last time you got weird about it,” Will says quietly. “We should go to bed.”

“I will not get ‘weird’ about it this time,” Hannibal says, and Will can hear the quotes around the word ‘weird’ without Hannibal making the air quotes with his fingers. He wonders if Hannibal would even do air quotes like that. The thought makes him smile.

Hannibal gets out from between Will’s legs and they lay on their sides facing each other.

“So, Friday we’re having dinner and on Saturday…” Will says.

“Whatever you would like. Christmas Eve is Monday. Did you decide if we’re spending it here or my house?” 

“Here, I think. If you’re okay with that,” Will says. “Saturday, actually… Would you mind helping me bring the bed upstairs?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks. We cut it real close this morning. I like being able to see the ground level of my house, and being close to the dogs, but after Jack almost saw you…” Will sighs. “Plus it would be nice to be able to shut the door every time we want to have sex without the dogs watching us, or trying to get in the bed.”

Hannibal smiles. “You can always bring your old bed down here and sleep downstairs if you feel the need to be down here.”

Will nods. “We can do that Saturday, then.” 

“Friday night in Baltimore, Saturday, Monday and Tuesday here?”

“You can be here on Sunday, too,” Will says. He yawns, and his eyes are getting tired. “When do you get back to work after Christmas?”

“I have my office closed until the second of January, but I may take some calls from patients during that time,” Hannibal answers. 

Sleepily, Will says, “Just stay here all week then.” 

“I’m having a New Year’s Eve party at home. I’ll have to prepare for that a few days before.”

“Like… ‘murder’ prepare or just…”

“No, love. Just getting my house clean and ready for guests.” Hannibal reaches out and pushes Will’s hair away from his eyes. Eyes that keep getting heavier each time he blinks. “We can talk about it this weekend. You’re invited, but there’ll be a lot of people in attendance.”

Will nods and rolls closer to Hannibal, burying his face in his chest. “I’ll come, but I won’t have fun.” 

“Jack will be there,” Hannibal adds.

“So no kiss at midnight. Got it.” 

“Maybe if he looks away,” Hannibal jokes. “Sleep, Will.” 

Will hums, then whispers, “Goodnight.” 

* * *

In the morning, Will gets up first, tending to the dogs while Hannibal lays back on the bed and watches him. Will wears one of Hannibal’s sweaters and nothing else while he stands by the door, waiting for the dogs to come back. The only barrier between Will and the cold is the storm door. Even Hannibal can feel the air coming in from across the room and under the blankets. 

“Shut the door,” Hannibal says. “Get back in bed with me. Or we can go shower.”

Will just turns and glares at him before turning back to watch the dogs through the screen. His arms are crossed in front of his chest and Hannibal can see him shivering, but he stays where he is in front of the door. 

Hannibal sighs, gets up and crosses the room naked. He pulls Will away from the door, shuts it, then scoops him up into his arms. 

“Hannibal!” Will yells.

Hannibal carries him off towards the shower. 

“The dogs are fine out there for now. You are going to get sick if you stand in front of the door in nothing but a sweater. And I would like a shower with you this morning,” Hannibal lists off. 

“They’re probably ready to come in,” Will tells him as Hannibal sets him to the floor. 

“Get in the shower,” Hannibal says, pulling the sweater off of Will’s body and pushing him in the direction of the shower. “I will go let them in.” 

“You’re being weird this morning,” Will mumbles as Hannibal steps into the hall again. Hannibal doesn’t think he was supposed to hear it, but he still did. 

Truth be told, Hannibal is well aware that he’s being overbearing this morning. He finds himself wanting to be close to Will, would shove him in his pocket and carry him all day if he could. With the cancellation of both Will’s appointment, and then their other plans for the night, Hannibal finds himself… clingy. 

He gets the dogs inside and nearly runs back to the bathroom, eager to have Will back in his arms for just another few minutes if he can’t do it tonight. 

Hannibal steps into the shower behind Will and wraps his arms around the smaller man, pulling him tight against his chest. 

“What is your problem this morning?” Will asks. His tone is harsh, but there's clearly an attempt to sound lighthearted. It just doesn’t entirely come across that way. He pulls himself out of Hannibal’s arms and Hannibal lets him go, a frown on his face as he watches Will reach for his soap.

“Am I not allowed to hug you?” Hannibal asks after a moment. 

“You can, but it’s like you’re scared you’re about to lose me or something,” Will sighs. “You didn’t want me standing on the other side of the room for five minutes, you carried me to the bathroom, you  _ ran _ to let the dogs in. What’s going on?”

“I just love you,” Hannibal says. “Isn’t that reason enough?”

He doesn’t want to tell Will about how he’s thinking about how he’ll miss him tonight. Or how he wants Will to be with him at all times and never see nor talk to another person that isn’t Hannibal himself again. He wants Will to have time for him and only him, all the time. He doesn’t say any of that. Because he knows that’s not healthy behavior. He wants it that way, won’t stop wanting it that way, but he does still know it’s not necessarily good. Just like murder. 

“I guess,” Will says. “Wash my hair?” 

Hannibal smiles and grabs the shampoo. He loves this part. Loves tangling his fingers in Will’s hair, washing his curls for him. Loves the sounds Will makes when Hannibal massages his scalp. Quiet moans that he’s not sure Will is even aware of.

He hopes Will doesn’t get his hair cut too short. He would be so disappointed if they couldn’t have mornings like this, if he couldn’t knot his fingers in Will’s hair, or push it from his eyes. The way Will looks at him every time he does - either grateful, or annoyed, no in between - is always endearing. 

When the conditioner is rinsed out of Will’s hair, Will turns and pushes up on his toes to kiss Hannibal. Hannibal wraps an arm around Will’s back and pulls him close. 

Will buries his face in Hannibal's neck and holds onto him and for a few minutes they just cling onto each other in the shower. 

Hannibal reaches around Will and shuts off the water. They each take turns in the bathroom after that, then get dressed and have breakfast. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Will says when they get to his car. Hannibal kisses him once, then twice, then nods. 

“Come over around six,” Hannibal says. “Alana is supposed to arrive at six thirty.”

“I might not be able to make it until six thirty,” Will frowns. “I have lectures until four. Forty five minutes to get home. An hour to you, but there’ll be traffic around that time, so maybe longer. And I have to take care of the dogs, and-”

Will is rambling, a frantic and apologetic tone in his voice and Hannibal cuts him off with a kiss. 

“Arrive when you can,” he says. “Dinner won’t be until seven.”

Will nods and after that they part ways. 

Hannibal has an appointment with Franklyn Froideveux today. The man, who has been possibly stalking him, that he told Will about. 

He sits across from the short round man, who is currently sobbing and reaching a hand out for Hannibal’s box of kleenex. Hannibal hands it over and watches Franklyn pluck one out of the box, loudly and rudely blow his nose, then crumble up the tissue and set it on the table next to him. 

Hannibal’s nose crinkles in disgust no matter how hard he tries to make it not. 

Had Will not cancelled tonight, this would be much more bearable. He would have something to look forward to. But instead, this is just how the day is going to go. 

“Franklyn, as I said before, I am your psychiatrist. Not your friend,” Hannibal finds himself repeating for the third time this session. “Of course you would like for me to be your friend, I have intimate knowledge of you. But, be that as it may, you pay me to have that knowledge and provide therapy for it.”

“I wish I didn’t have to pay to see you!” Franklyn exclaims. “We would be such great friends, maybe even something else. We like all the same things-”

“Ah, unfortunately that concludes your hour, Franklyn,” Hannibal says, checking his watch. It’s a few minutes before time, but he cannot bear to have Franklyn keep talking. 

He directs Franklyn to the door and immediately goes to his desk to pull his cell phone out of the drawer. Without even thinking, he calls Will. It rings several times before Will answers and Hannibal comes back to himself, remembering Will is at work and could be teaching. 

But Will answers. A concerned sounding, “Hannibal, what’s up?” 

“I apologize if you’re busy, I’m afraid I called without thinking,” Hannibal says. 

“No, no, I’m between lectures. I was just talking to Jack for a minute and couldn’t answer until he left my office,” Will says. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes I’m,” Hannibal swallows. “I’m fine. I should let you go.”

“Hannibal,” Will says. “You’re worrying me, baby. What’s going on?” 

“I’m just a bit flustered,” Hannibal explains. “I should not be telling you this, but that patient I told you about… do you remember him?”

“Yes…” Will says slowly. “The cheese guy with the crush on you.”

“Him, yes. I showed him out the door five minutes early today because he was suggesting he wants a romantic relationship with me,” Hannibal says quietly. “Well, more than suggesting, really.”

“What did he do?” Will asks. There’s anger there. Possessiveness. 

“Nothing, nothing, love. He just said he wants to be friends, or  _ something else _ because we like the same things, and I quite rudely cut him off,” Hannibal says. “I called you without even thinking because of how it bothered me.” 

“Can you- can you refer him to someone else?” Will asks. 

“I fear that would give him the wrong idea at this point,” Hannibal sighs. “I would be better off getting him arrested so he can no longer stalk me, either.”

“Well,” Will sighs. “I guess you can try. I don’t know how well it would work if he hasn’t actually done anything.” 

“I’ll keep treating him until it gets to be too much,” Hannibal decides. He could always find a way to kill him if necessary. “I should let you get back to work.”

“I don’t have anything to do for an hour,” Will says. “You’re still bothered by this, I can tell. You can keep talking to me if you want.” 

Hannibal settles back in his chair, tips his head against the backrest and sighs. “Yes. Okay. Tell me how your day has been. What did Jack want?” 

“Just to see how I’m doing,” Will says. “Make sure yesterday was just a fluke and that I’m not still sick.”

“Hm. You are feeling better today, yes?” Hannibal asks. He opens his appointment book to see when Will’s next brain scan is. Not until after New Years. “You have another appointment on the sixth.”

“Yeah, I’m fine today. Are you coming with me for that?” 

“I was planning on it. I wrote it down so I wouldn’t forget.”

“Thanks. I don’t like being alone with Sutcliffe.”

“No, I don’t blame you for that,” Hannibal says. 

He wonders if he could kill Sutcliffe as his next non-Ripper kill. Get rid of him after Will’s next scan. The inflammation should be cleared up by then, as long as Will is still taking his prescriptions as directed. 

“Are you sure I can’t see you tonight?” Hannibal asks. 

“Hannibal,” Will sighs. “I’ll see you tomorrow and all week. You can go one night without me.”

“Will you at least send me a picture after you get your haircut tonight?” Hannibal asks. 

“No. You can see it tomorrow. It won’t be anything special,” Will laughs. There’s a noise in the background of Will’s end, then Will says, “Hold on, someone’s at my office door. I’ll call you back?” 

“I have an appointment soon, but I will call tonight,” Hannibal says. “Goodbye, love.” 

“Bye, baby,” Will says. 

Hannibal smiles to himself while he looks over the notes for his next patient, recalling what they talked about the previous week. 

The rest of the day is boring, and Hannibal is counting down the hours until he can go home and call Will back. 

When he finally sits down in his study with a glass of wine and his sketchbook after dinner, he picks up his phone and calls. 

He puts pencil to paper while he talks to Will, mindlessly sketching on the page. 

“The dogs are being a pain in my ass tonight,” Will says. There’s barking in the background, Hannibal can hear Will’s feet shuffling around the house, then the sound of the front door opening. He yells, “Go out, then!”

There’s just more barking and the sound of nails clicking on the hardwood floor. A loud sigh, then the door shuts again. 

“Seriously, they’ve eaten, they don't want to go out, they aren’t interested in playing. No idea what’s going on with them,” Will says. 

Hannibal smiles and looks down at his drawing. It’s clearly Will’s eyes, there’s no doubt about it. Sleepy. He thinks of Will’s whole face when he looks sleepy like that and starts to really focus on what he’s drawing, rather than absentminded doodling. 

“They miss me,” Hannibal says. 

“I’m sure,” Will says sarcastically. “Or they’re just excited my attention is actually on them.” 

“Or that,” Hannibal agrees. “What did you have for dinner tonight?”

“If you  _ must  _ know,” Will says. “I had Kraft mac and cheese.”

“Not my first choice of cuisine, but as long as you like it, then I cannot judge,” Hannibal says. 

“No you cannot. I’d ask what you had, but it’s probably a language I don’t speak,” Will laughs. 

Hannibal smiles. “You’d be correct. What are you doing now?”

“Sitting down on the couch with a glass of whiskey and the dogs still pacing around the room,” Will says. “Might watch the news.”

“Hm, an interesting night then,” Hannibal says. 

“What are you doing?”

“Drawing you. Drinking a glass of wine.”

“Do you draw me a lot? I’ve never seen you do it.”

“If the mood strikes,” Hannibal answers. Honestly, though, he has pages filled with drawings of Will. Most from memory, but some of Will while he’s sleeping. He doesn’t tell Will this, for fear he won’t like that type of attention. “What else did you do today?”

“I got your Christmas present, actually. That’s why I didn’t want you to come over, really.”

“Oh,” Hannibal says. “I haven’t gotten you anything yet.”

“You don’t have to get me anything,” Will says. “You get me enough as it is.”

“No, no. I’ll leave you for a few hours on Sunday to get your gift,” Hannibal says.

Will yawns on the other end of the line, and Hannibal knows he’s tired. Only staying awake to talk to Hannibal. 

“Go to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Hannibal says. “I should get ready for bed, as well.”

They say goodnight to each other and hang up. 

The next day drags on for Hannibal. He only has a few appointments, but he can’t think of anything besides Will during them, and he knows that’s a problem. Bedelia would definitely tell him he’s obsessed with Will Graham. Of course, she would be right. 

He gets home and changes into a white button down and gray pants, out of his dark blue plaid suit that he wore to the office. He knows Will likes him dressed down, so of course he has to indulge. He combs his hair so it’s no longer slicked back with gel, but rather falling into his face. Again, how Will likes him. 

Alana arrives first, ten minutes early, and he helps her out of her coat, hanging it up in the hall closet. 

“You are just in time to help me with dinner,” Hannibal says with a smile. “Will is going to be joining us tonight, as well.”

“Oh, really?” Alana asks, somewhat surprised.

“Yes, we had a few things to discuss with you, but I would prefer to wait until he arrives.”

“Yeah, of course,” Alana says. 

Hannibal gets her an apron and a glass of the beer he brews for her, and directs her toward a stack of vegetables to chop. 

They talk about nothing in particular while they wait. 

“I think I will tell Will to just let himself in when he gets here,” Hannibal says after a while, taking out his phone to text Will. “That way I do not need to worry about anything burning.”

After a few more minutes, nearing quarter to seven at this point, the front door opens and shuts. After another minute, Will walks into the kitchen and Hannibal’s jaw drops. 

“Your hair!” Alana exclaims. 

Just as Hannibal hisses in pain because he cut his finger with the knife in his hand. 

Will runs a hand over his buzzed head, a sheepish smile on his face. Neither seem to notice that Hannibal is bleeding out. He rinses his finger under the sink and assesses the damage done. A bandage will be just fine, but he’ll have to throw out what he was cutting up, which is unfortunate. The cut of meat was a particularly good one. 

When he looks up Alana is rubbing her hand over Will’s scalp and Hannibal has to grip the counter to make himself not react. 

Hannibal clears his throat. “Will, would you assist me in setting the table?”

“Sure,” Will smiles. 

Hannibal hands him a stack of plates and picks up glasses and cutlery himself, following Will into the dining room. 

“What did you do?” Hannibal laments, looking at Will’s hair. “It’s so short.”

“I like it,” Will shrugs. “Don’t you?”

Hannibal sighs. “Your head is going to get cold. We will talk about it later.”

Will laughs once, shaking his head. “Sure.”

He picks up Hannibal’s hand, looks at the cut on Hannibal’s fingertip, then brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the wound. 

“Are you upset with me?” Will asks, an innocent look on his face. 

_ Ah.  _ Hannibal thinks. “You’re testing me.” 

Will smirks and walks back into the kitchen, leaving Hannibal to finish setting the table on his own. 

“I think it suits you,” Alana is saying when Hannibal walks back into the kitchen. There’s a flirtatious smile on her face, and Hannibal has to ignore it. 

He opens a cupboard and pulls down a first aid kit, putting a bandaid on his finger, and going back to his cutting board. He’s lucky that most of the meat was already cut and put off to the side, and he throws away what is contaminated by his own blood. 

It’s not as though it matters  _ that  _ much seeing as he’s already feeding his guests human meat, but he wants to keep up appearances. Not that Alana’s attention is focused on him, and not that Will would care at all. 

“You may go sit in the dining room,” Hannibal says. “I’ll bring dinner out momentarily.” 

Hannibal brings out dinner, sits down at the head of the table, with Alana and Will on either side of him. 

“Will and I were hoping to discuss the idea of taking Abigail out of the facility,” Hannibal says after a few minutes of eating in silence. 

“And she wants to go to school abroad- which, I believe me and Hannibal would be more than okay with splitting the cost of,” Will says. 

Hannibal looks at him, but doesn’t say anything about how Hannibal plans on covering the  _ entire  _ cost of her schooling. 

“And where is she going to live before that?” Alana asks. 

“Here,” Hannibal answers. “I have more than enough room. She’ll be close to the city here. She will have freedom to come and go, but she will always have a place to stay here.”

“Is she comfortable with that arrangement?” Alana asks. “Is she going to have a car? A job?”

“I said I’d buy her a car as long as she doesn’t do Freddie’s book,” Will says. “And if she ever wants to stay with me instead of Hannibal, she can.”

“And we can help her look for apartments if that’s what she chooses instead,” Hannibal adds. “She will not be alone.”

“I still don’t know if she’s ready.”

“She’s being punished for her father’s crimes, Alana,” Hannibal says. He sets his knife down, and wipes his face with his napkin. “She has trauma and being surrounded by people who only talk about what is wrong with them cannot be helping her at all.”

“She needs a controlled environment,” Alana counters. 

“She will never be able to live in the real world if she stays in that facility,” Will says. “We’re all fucked up, and we’re just all doing just fine.” 

“She’s only nineteen. She’s seen far more than any nineteen year old can effectively handle on their own,” Alana says. 

“I’m a psychiatrist, Alana. Just like you. I can provide a stable environment for her, just like that facility, but the difference is that I will allow her the opportunity to grow,” Hannibal says. “Keeping her there will just force her to stay as she is, never move on from what has happened.” 

Alana sighs. “We take her out for a few days, but keep her room open there. If she doesn’t adjust well, then she goes back.”

“A trial run,” Will says. 

“A trial run,” Alana agrees. 

Hannibal smiles at both of them. 

After dinner, Hannibal offers dessert, but Alana shakes her head. “I have to get going, actually.”

“Of course,” Hannibal nods. “More for Will and I, then.”

The second Alana is out the door, Hannibal locks it and walks briskly back to the kitchen. He finds Will leaning against the counter, dessert bowl in hand already, eating the ice cream Hannibal had in the freezer. 

“I had toppings for that,” Hannibal says. 

Will shrugs and puts another spoonful in his mouth. 

“Did you shave your head to see if I would get mad?” Hannibal asks. 

Will doesn’t answer, just watches him while he eats his ice cream. 

“Did you think I would hurt you?” Hannibal asks. “You had this idea the other morning, didn’t you? Right after we talked about how I would never hurt you. You are purposefully testing me on this.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Will says. 

Hannibal sighs and crosses the kitchen to stand in front of Will. Will tenses for a second as Hannibal gets into his space, then relaxes. Surely an attempt to seem like he was not just frightened by Hannibal’s quick movements. 

“It’s just hair,” Hannibal says. He lifts a hand to rub across the prickly hair. “But, oh how I loved your curls.”

“They’ll grow back,” Will says. 

“I am aware. Which is why I cannot be upset about this,” Hannibal says. “I will miss your hair, though.”

“I know, baby.”

“Am I the only reason you’ve done this?” Hannibal asks. 

“No, of course not. I like it. Alana says it suits me.”

“Alana was flirting with you tonight,” Hannibal says. “What is to be done about that?”

“I could be like you and wait until she tries to make a move before I reject her,” Will suggests. 

Will sets the ice cream bowl on the counter behind him, then puts his fingers through Hannibal’s belt loops to pull him forward. Hannibal puts his hands on Will’s cheeks, then runs one to cradle the back of his head. Nothing to tangle his fingers into. Nothing to push away from Will’s face. Instead he pushes Will’s glasses up so they sit more properly on his nose, instead of hanging off. 

“You haven’t gotten to kiss me all night,” Will says, an eyebrow raised. 

“Or yesterday because you were too busy cutting off all of your beautiful hair,” Hannibal says. He leans forward and kisses Will softly, just once. “You should pull your car into the garage.”

Hannibal goes to a drawer and pulls out an opener for his garage door, handing it to Will. He says, “This is yours.”

While Will is outside, Hannibal gets a text from Alana. 

_ Made a few calls. Abigail can leave as soon as tomorrow. Let me know what works for you. _

Will comes back inside and shakes his head. “Alana is still sitting outside your house. I can’t bring my car in yet.”

“She was making some calls and just texted me saying Abigail can leave tomorrow,” Hannibal says. “I believe I’ll say that works. We can take her shopping for some clothes not chosen by Alana.” 

Hannibal sends back a message saying he’ll pick her up tomorrow. 

Both men go and stand in the front of the house, watching between the curtains until Alana finally drives away. Will sighs in relief and goes out to pull his car into the garage for the night. 

“It has been a long day,” Will says when he comes back into the kitchen from the mud room. He sets his car keys down on the kitchen counter, then goes to a cupboard to pull down a glass. He fills it with water from the sink. 

“Should we go to bed?” Hannibal asks. 

“You aren’t tired,” Will says. “We can sit in the study if you want.”

“If you’d like to go up to bed, I have no problem with joining you.”

Will shakes his head. “I’ll lay on the couch if you want to read or draw.” 

“Will. I want to lay in bed with you,” Hannibal says. “Come on.”

Will just nods then follows Hannibal up the stairs to his bedroom. 

“You didn’t bring a bag?” Hannibal asks. 

“I have my phone charger in my pocket, and you have clothes here for me, don’t you?” Will asks. 

“Yes, I do.”

“Well, then I didn’t need a bag.”

Hannibal flips the switch on the fireplace, then goes into the bathroom. 

When he comes out, Will is laying naked on top of the blankets. Hannibal quickly strips off his clothes, puts them into his laundry basket, then goes to join Will on the bed. Hannibal lays on his stomach next to Will, and Will turns his head to look at him. 

“Do you actually like my haircut?”

“I would like any haircut on you, my love. Your hair is not the reason I am with you,” Hannibal says. He moves closer so he can kiss Will’s cheek. “And I know you were expecting me to be upset, for whatever reason, but I would prefer if you trust me when I say that the way I am is the way I will always be toward you.”

“You do understand why I have doubts, though right?” Will sighs. 

“Of course I understand,” Hannibal says. 

He gets up and shuts off all the lights before going back to the bed and getting under the blankets. 

“Are you going to lay on top of the covers all night or are you going to join me?” Hannibal asks. 

Will gets up, peels back the covers and slides under them, then curls around Hannibal’s body and rests his head on Hannibal’s chest. 

“Abigail has a driver’s license, right?” Will asks. 

“Yes, she does,” Hannibal answers. 

“Then we pick her up in the morning, give her a bunch of cash and my car keys and let her buy what she needs for your house,” Will says. “We can take your car to Wolf Trap to take care of the dogs while she does that. Maybe she can come to my house for lunch, too. I don’t think she’s ever met the dogs.”

Hannibal rubs Will’s head and says, “Okay.”

Will kisses Hannibal’s chest and wraps an arm around his torso. Will falls asleep after that, leaving Hannibal to stare at the ceiling in the dark. Thinking about how certain Will must have been that Hannibal would become violent over something as simple as a haircut. He doesn’t want Will to be scared of him, but it seems that’s where they have ended up. 

He knows he needs to keep proving himself to Will, keep proving that his love is true, and that this side of him is real. He rubs his hand over Will’s short hair again, and again. Will wakes after a while. 

“Stop that,” he mumbles. 

Hannibal smiles and wraps his arms around Will’s back instead, holding him close while he tries to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you’re still reading!! And let me know what you think, of course!
> 
> Also my friend Kaira said not to shave Will’s head, so I was like “well now I’m just going to shave it harder,” so sorry Kaira. And everyone else. I mentioned a few chapters ago that his hair was getting too long. I couldn’t just leave that hanging (I really could have, though).


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning that Hannibal commits a murder and stages it as a suicide. I’m not at all graphic in explaining it, but I want people to be aware of that and prepared beforehand.

The next morning, they do everything as Will had laid it out the night before. 

Abigail is so happy she’s finally getting out of the facility, hugs them both when they tell her the news. She packs up all of her belongings and practically skips out of the building. 

Hannibal hands her a stack of cash and Will’s mouth drops open as he watches her count it in the back seat. 

“Don’t feel the need to spend it all,” Will says. 

“Or if it’s not enough for everything, just let me know and I will take you out sometime this coming week,” Hannibal says.

They drop her off at Hannibal’s house and Will hands her his car keys. 

Will holds Hannibal’s hand on the center console the entire ride back to Wolf Trap. He watches Hannibal from the passenger seat, and Hannibal turns to him every time they stop at a light or a stop sign. 

It takes them the better part of the morning to get Will’s bed upstairs and set back up, and get the bedding back onto it, and when they finally do, they’re both sweating and in need of a shower. 

Will sends Hannibal into the bathroom to get the water to a comfortable temperature, and says he’ll be in after he puts the dogs out again and feeds them. 

The dogs are fine, though. He knows that. The second the bathroom door shuts, Will goes into the guest bedroom that has been closed all day, and looks under the dresser in there. 

“You can come out, it’s okay,” he whispers to the tiny kitten he got for Hannibal for Christmas. Of course, Hannibal expressed that his house is not suitable for a cat, but Will figures he spends enough time in Wolf Trap that the cat can live with him. A joint gift, really. 

The black cat hesitates before crawling out from under the dresser, then she climbs into Will’s lap and starts purring. 

“Your other dad is here today,” Will whispers to the kitten. “I think I might give him his gift early.”

The kitten just looks up at him and blinks. Will scratches under her chin, then deposits her on the cat tree he bought her. He checks on her water bowl, then goes down to the kitchen to refill it. He sets it down, makes sure the automatic feeder is working, then leaves the room to join Hannibal in the shower. 

“Hello, love,” Hannibal says, turning to kiss Will. 

“Hi. I want to give you your Christmas gift today,” Will tells him. “I know it’s not for a few days, but I’d rather not wait, and I’m sure you’ll understand why after I give it to you.” 

“If you insist,” Hannibal says. 

Will reaches for the soap and starts to wash his body, and Hannibal just watches him do it. It is honestly kind of weird how intensely he’s staring at Will.

“Jesus, what?” Will asks after a minute. He avoids Hannibal’s eyes, not liking the sort of attention he’s giving him. Doesn’t want to know how Hannibal is actually feeling right now. He knows it’ll be too much input. 

Hannibal turns, shuts off the water, then turns back and lifts Will by his upper thighs, hoisting him up so Will has no choice but to wrap his arms around his neck and his legs around his waist. Will doesn’t even protest, just lets Hannibal carry him from the bathroom to Will’s new bedroom. 

Will laughs when Hannibal throws him down onto the bed and climbs over him. 

“What’s gotten into you?” Will asks, pushing up on his elbows to kiss Hannibal. 

“You are beautiful,” Hannibal says against his lips. “And I want you right now.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m here,” Will says. He reaches down and takes his cock in his hand, stroking himself until he’s hard. Hannibal sits back and watches him, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. He looks at Will like he’s the best thing he’s ever seen. “Are you just going to stare at me, or are you going to get the lube from downstairs?”

They haven’t brought up the nightstands yet, and Hannibal groans impatiently, getting off the bed and running from the room. Will spreads his legs out and waits for Hannibal to come back, which he does in just a matter of seconds. 

Hannibal gets between his legs and leans down, leaving kisses along Will’s throat, and jaw. He moves down and kisses his stomach, and hip bones, and thighs. He doesn’t put his mouth on any of the places Will would like it to be, though. 

“Baby, I know you like savoring this and taking your time, but I don’t think we have much time today,” Will tells him. 

He picks up the lube himself and gets his fingers coated before pushing one inside himself. Hannibal sits back again and watches him finger himself open. 

After Will stretches himself with three fingers, he pulls them out and looks at Hannibal expectantly. Hannibal smiles and slicks up his cock before pushing all the way into Will in one thrust. Will arches his back and moans out at the suddenness of it all. He wants more of that, and he wants it now. 

“Move, move,” Will says, grabbing at Hannibal’s back, his hair, any part he can reach. 

Hannibal pulls out slowly, before pushing back in, setting a rhythm, but not at all the pace Will wants. 

“Harder, Hannibal,” Will says. “Faster.”

Hannibal snaps his hips harder, pushing Will up the mattress. 

“That’s it, like that,” Will nods. He pulls Hannibal down by the back of his neck, reeling him in for an eager kiss. Mostly teeth nipping at lips and hot breath against each other’s mouths. 

Will reaches between them, taking his own cock in hand and stroking a few times until Hannibal pushes his hand away. Hannibal grips both of Will’s hands in his own, lacing their fingers together. Hannibal is still staring at him in that same intense way as in the shower, and Will doesn’t want to deal with the way that makes him feel right now. 

“Wait, hold on,” Will says, words breathless. 

Hannibal slows his hips and Will moves, letting Hannibal slip out of his body while he twists around to get on his knees in front of Hannibal, holding himself up by his elbows. 

“Will,” Hannibal says. “I-”

“Yeah, yeah, you want to see me. I want you to fuck me like this. Look at me later,” Will says. He pushes his ass up and looks back at Hannibal over his shoulder. “Come on, babe.”

Hannibal looks utterly taken aback at the display in front of him and Will just smirks and reaches back toward him. Hannibal takes Will’s hand, giving it a squeeze before letting Will retract it, bringing it back so he can lean on his elbows. Will feels Hannibal’s hands grip his hips, move to spread his butt cheeks. 

Will groans and buries his face into the mattress when Hannibal pushes back inside him. 

“I love you,” Hannibal whispers. He thrusts into Will hard, getting the perfect angle that causes Will to cry out, muffled by the pillow his face is buried in. He grips at the sheets, moaning loud.

“So good,” he says, because he knows Hannibal needs reassurance that it is. “You feel so good, baby.” 

Hannibal leans down, kisses the back of Will’s shoulder. Will flattens himself further onto the mattress, letting his cock grind against the sheets. Hannibal drapes himself over Will’s body, continuing to thrust into him at just the right angle. 

Will turns his head to catch Hannibal’s mouth with his. Kissing and licking, sucking Hannibal’s bottom lip between his own two, and then tugging it between his teeth. 

Hannibal pulls out just as Will’s starting to get close and he reaches back, looks back to see where he went. Then Hannibal is flipping Will over, picking him up and sitting on the bed against the headboard with Will in his lap.

“Hannibal,” Will protests. Now Will’s eyes are in Hannibal’s line of sight again, and has to let Hannibal watch him with that intense stare. It’s a lot, how much love and utter obsession Will is able to read from him. It’s too much, but Will really wants to finish, so he lines himself up and sinks down on Hannibal’s cock. 

“Beautiful, my dear Will. My love,” Hannibal is whispering. “You are my everything.”

Will drops his face down to Hannibal’s shoulder while he moves on him. Hannibal has one arm wrapped around Will, hand on his ass, fingers touching where Hannibal’s cock is moving in and out of him. For a second Will thinks Hannibal is going to push a finger in, but then Hannibal’s hand moves to the small of his back instead. 

“Look at me,” Hannibal whispers. His other hand moves between their bodies, taking Will’s cock into his hand, letting Will thrust into it while he moves on Hannibal’s cock. 

“I can’t,” Will admits. “It’s too much.”

The truth feels good to let out. To be honest with the fact that sometimes he just cannot deal with how Hannibal feels about him. 

Hannibal doesn’t ask again and soon enough they’re both coming and Will pulls off of Hannibal and lays on the bed next to him. 

Will catches his breath after a minute, then gets up to finish the shower he barely started before he was whisked away to the bedroom. Hannibal doesn’t follow him, which is disappointing. Will just hopes he isn’t upset. 

When he finishes up in the shower, no more come or sweat sticking to his body, he walks back out into the hallway and to the bedroom where he left Hannibal. 

Hannibal is laying in the bed on his back, eyes shut, hands clasped over his stomach. Will walks in slowly and lays down next to him, then rolls over to rest his head on Hannibal’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” Will whispers. 

“Whatever for, my love?” Hannibal asks. One of his hands ends up on Will’s head, rubbing at the buzzed hair. 

“I know how you like eye contact and I couldn’t give it to you,” Will whispers. 

Hannibal moves, sits up so he can pull Will into his lap, leaning him against his chest. 

“I don’t care,” Hannibal says. “I know how eye contact is a problem for you sometimes. Tell me, darling, what was the issue today?”

“You were being very intense,” Will answers. “It was uncomfortable how obsessed and possessive you were.” 

“Then I suppose I’m the one that should be apologizing,” Hannibal says. 

“You didn’t push when I said I couldn’t,” Will says. “You were good about it. I just feel bad.”

“Well, don’t,” Hannibal whispers. He kisses the top of Will’s head. Then, “I am afraid we don’t have long before Abigail finishes her shopping and shows up here. Perhaps we should get dressed.”

“Yeah. Perhaps,” Will agrees. “Clean clothes are still downstairs.”

“Yes, I suppose they are,” Hannibal says. 

Neither one makes an attempt to move. Will wants to stay like this, his cheek pressed to Hannibal’s chest, curled up against him, arms around his body. After a few minutes, Will finally sighs and extracts himself from Hannibal’s embrace. 

“I’ll bring you something to wear,” Will says. He leans down and kisses Hannibal once. “Stay here.”

Will brings him back one of his own long sleeve shirts and a pair of Hannibal’s underwear and pants. He gathers clothes for himself too and brings the pile back up to the bedroom. 

“This is yours,” Hannibal says as he pulls the shirt on. 

“And you look good in it,” Will tells him, eyes raking over the stretched fabric on Hannibal’s chest. 

When they’re both dressed, Will sits Hannibal down on the edge of bed and leaves the room, telling him to stay where he is and close his eyes. 

* * *

Hannibal, of course, already knows what his gift is. Could smell it on Will the second he stepped into the shower earlier. Still, when Will sets the tiny black kitten in Hannibal’s hands, he instantly falls in love with her. 

“She’s mine?” Hannibal asks. 

Will is standing in front of him, a smile on his face, eyes full of love. 

“Of course. I know you said your house isn’t suitable for a cat. She can stay here, though,” Will tells him. Hannibal finds himself nodding while he holds the kitten to his face, rubbing his forehead against her tiny head. She meows at him and sticks her paw out to tap his cheek. “You’re here all the time anyway, so you’ll always see her.” 

“I love her. What’s her name?” Hannibal asks. 

Will sits down on the bed next to him and scratches the kitten under her chin. She yawns big, and Hannibal sets her down in his lap where she curls up in a tiny ball. 

“You get to name her,” Will says. 

“Beatrice,” Hannibal answers without even thinking of it. “Her name is Beatrice.”

“Beatrice it is,” Will smiles.

Hannibal turns his head to kiss him, soft and slow. He raised a hand to cup Will’s cheek then rests their foreheads together. He smiles, eyes closed, then kisses Will again. And again. 

He wants to tell Will how much he loves him, but considering the fact that Will said he was being too intense before, he refrains. He also doesn’t want Will to feel obligated to say it back. He knows Will feels bad every time he doesn’t say it back to him. He doesn’t want to ruin this moment with Will feeling suffocated by either of their feelings. 

“Thank you,” Hannibal says instead. 

“You’re welcome,” Will says. 

They pull their faces apart after another minute. Beatrice jumps from Hannibal’s lap and walks out of the bedroom. Hannibal looks at Will, wondering if she’s safe with the dogs or if they need to chase after her. 

“She’s okay,” Will assures him. “Winston loves her. So does Rusty. The others don’t really care much.”

“Well that is good,” Hannibal says. 

They sit there for another moment, then Will puts a hand on Hannibal’s knee. 

“Hey, so, really quick,” Will starts. “I think we should talk.”

Hannibal’s heart drops, but he just nods, pretending to stay unaffected by Will’s words. It could be any number of things. Will finding out about the Ripper, Will breaking up with him, Will saying he needs a break. He tells himself he’s being idiotic. Will just gave him a kitten. There’s no way he’s breaking up with him. 

“Abigail needs a car,” Will says instead. Hannibal feels a flood of relief, even having known the conversation wouldn’t be anything bad. “And I’m also curious to know how you plan on getting away with murder while she lives in your house.”

“Car after the holidays,” Hannibal answers. “Murder does not occur in the house,” he lies. “If I ever leave at night, she will likely never notice. If she does, I say I am here.”

Will seems somewhat skeptical, but doesn’t ask any further questions. 

“Has she decided on school?” Will asks.

“You’ll have to ask her,” Hannibal says. 

Will nods, then kisses Hannibal’s forehead. “We should change the sheets.”

“Or we can wait until they are even more of a mess later,” Hannibal suggests. 

“Round two later?” Will asks with a smirk. 

“That is what I was saying, yes.” 

Will kisses him once then stands up and offers a hand to Hannibal, who takes it and stands with him. 

They go downstairs, take care of the dogs, and Hannibal starts making dinner while they wait for Abigail. It’s early for dinner, but he wants to stop at home to lock his pantry and help Abigail bring her things up to one of the guest bedrooms. 

When she does arrive, Will asks about school while they sit in the kitchen. She holds Beatrice in her arms at the kitchen table, petting her while she purrs. 

“I think I’ll wait until the fall. Maybe get some work experience here first,” Abigail answers. 

“Perhaps that will be good for you. Too big of a transition may be difficult, but that should be an easier option,” Hannibal says from the stove. “You could take some classes at a community college in the meantime if you wish.”

“I considered that. Maybe I will,” Abigail says. “Some general education credits would be useful.” 

Both men agree with her and Hannibal starts carrying plates over to the table. He kisses the top of Will’s head when he sets his down in front of him. He misses the soft curls. Will tips his chin up before Hannibal can walk away and Hannibal pecks his lips too. 

“Gross,” Abigail mutters. 

Will grins and Hannibal sits down in his seat without saying anything about it. 

“I need to run home tonight for a few things,” Hannibal says. “Abigail, you can use my car for the week. I’ll be staying here.”

“So I have your house to myself?” Abigail asks. 

_And Miriam Lass,_ Hannibal thinks, but does not say. “Yes. I believe I should tell you no parties.”

“Oh yeah, you have to worry about that,” she says, completely sarcastic. 

“You can come back Monday night for Christmas Eve and stay for Christmas morning,” Will says. “It won’t be much fun, but it’s better than spending the holiday alone.”

Abigail nods and they finish eating their dinner. 

* * *

With the plates washed and everyone fed, Will wonders what the rest of the night is going to be like. When they sit down in the living room, Abigail in a chair and Hannibal and Will on the couch, Hannibal gets a ding on his phone. Will looks over to see a notification from Tattlecrime. 

“You have notifications for that garbage?” Will scoffs. There’s a feeling of betrayal in his chest, though he knows it is ridiculous. Hannibal needs to keep up with things like this. It’s likely the best source of news for someone like him. 

Hannibal looks at the screen and frowns. “Can I talk to you in the kitchen, love?” 

Will glances over at Abigail, not paying attention to either of them, scrolling on her phone. He nods and stands. 

In the kitchen, Hannibal looks at him. “I need to go out tonight.”

“Tonight,” Will says, not quite a question, not quite agreeing. He hopes Hannibal senses his tiny bit of disappointment and worry. This isn’t how he was _hoping_ the rest of the night would go like. 

“Yes. Tonight.” 

“Why?” Will asks. 

“Someone I have been keeping tabs on has just struck again, and I believe I know where he has gone.”

“So then call the police,” Will says. He’s starting to sound desperate. He doesn’t want Hannibal going after another killer alone. He doesn’t want Hannibal being away from him after promising to stay the night. 

“My love, everything will be just fine. I’ll come back to you after I dispose of him,” Hannibal murmurs. He reaches out and rubs his hand over Will’s head. “It will be easy. I’m not taking anything, I’m not moving him from his home.”

“How are you going to do it?” Will asks. 

“Stage it as a suicide,” Hannibal shrugs. “He kills children. Hurts animals.”

Will sighs. Of fucking course. Will can excuse the murder of adults, but when Hannibal brings children and animals into it, he has no choice but to let him go. “You asshole. You knew that would change things.” 

“Hm yes. Let me go do this and I’ll come home to you after,” Hannibal says. 

_Home._ How Hannibal always says it in reference to Will’s own house now. His entire body feels warm, his hands tingling with the need to reach out and pull Hannibal close. 

“Fine. Help me move my old bed down first. I think I’ll sleep downstairs whenever you’re not here,” Will says. 

Hannibal agrees so that’s what they do. They do move both nightstands upstairs and Will moves a chair to sit next to the downstairs bed to leave his things on. He’ll get another nightstand after the holiday. 

“I’ll bring your car back,” Hannibal tells him after Abigail leaves. Hannibal has been lingering for a few minutes, waiting until she’s gone. 

Will looks at him, worried, concerned. Hannibal answers for him.

“I have spare cars for what I do, darling. No one will see your car anywhere near his house,” Hannibal says. 

Will nods and pushes up on his toes to kiss Hannibal’s cheek. Hannibal wraps his arms around him and pulls him in close. Will can feel him breathing in against his head. 

“Stop smelling me,” Will mumbles. 

“Alas, I cannot,” Hannibal says. “I will see you tonight. Don’t wait up for me.” 

Will does, of course. 

* * *

Hannibal rarely, if ever, gets injured on hunts. He doesn’t even want to call this an injury. It does however, make things difficult for him. 

A punch to the nose, sustained just before he can knock his victim unconscious. It causes his vision to blur and Hannibal swears. A concussion, likely. Not ideal at all, but not debilitating. 

Once his victim is unconscious he checks the man’s knuckles to make sure there’s no bruising. Nothing to suggest he was fighting someone off. Even so, if it’s not ruled a suicide, staging them isn’t an MO he commonly uses. The hunt for his killer will not be seen as the Ripper or any of Hannibal’s current aliases as copycats. 

Hannibal finds the man’s laptop then and pulls up a Word document, typing some lie of a suicide note. He knows this man. He has a public Facebook page that Hannibal has been checking up on. Hannibal knows how he writes things, even if it’s usually just posts on social media. It’s not difficult to emulate. 

He suspends the body with a noose he tied, places a kicked over chair under his feet; a suicide by hanging. Not very original, but it satisfies him well enough.

Hannibal killed this man because he was one step too close to finding out Hannibal is the Ripper. He was in a spot where Hannibal was planning on leaving a body during his last sounder. He let it slide for some time, knowing that this man could not easily go to the police unless he wanted to explain why he was in a place where a dead body was found. 

The Tattlecrime article showed just how close the FBI was to finding the man. If the FBI found him on their own, the man would likely give Hannibal up in a second to try and get a lesser sentence. So Hannibal killed him for himself. Also because he kills children. 

That one detail really drove it home. Hannibal is against harming kids, and with his own life being in danger because of the man possibly knowing his identity, he had no choice but to do it this time. He only told Will about the children and animals, though. Knowing that would be enough for Will to be okay with him doing it. 

It will help make Will see him as more of a vigilante than a monster by killing other monsters. 

Except tonight Will is most likely to see him as an idiot. He knows this because his head is swimming and he knows he’s going to end up vomiting at some point tonight from the head injury. He just hopes he gets himself together before he crawls into bed with Will. 

He cleans up, hopeful that his injured head didn’t mess anything up. He’s careful on the drive back, with street lamps even feeling too bright. Gets Will’s car. Goes home. To Will. 

Nausea hits him in waves. It hits him too hard when he steps out of Will’s car and he stops where he is, unable to hold himself together any longer. As he’s throwing up his dinner into the yard, holding onto the porch railing, the front door opens. 

Hannibal wipes his mouth and tilts his head to look up at Will, who rushes toward him. 

“Baby, what happened?” Will whispers. He’s rubbing Hannibal’s back where he’s still hunched over.

“Concussion, I believe,” Hannibal says. God his head hurts. And he’s tired. 

“Let’s get you inside,” Will whispers. Hannibal lets himself be assisted in standing up right and accepts the arm around his waist as Will walks him into the house. 

They go straight up the stairs after Will closes the door. Up into the bathroom where Will hands Hannibal his toothbrush and toothpaste, then starts the bathtub. 

“I’m afraid I may fall asleep if I get in that bath, darling,” Hannibal tells him. He brushes his teeth, getting the taste of vomit out of his mouth. He brushes them again just for good measure. 

“I won’t let you fall asleep,” Will tells him. He gestures at Hannibal’s body. “Strip.”

So Hannibal does and gets into the bathtub. Will closes the toilet lid and sits on top of it, watching Hannibal as he sinks into the water. Hannibal just barely pays attention to him.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” Will asks again. Hannibal’s eyes flutter shut when Will reaches out a hand to push his hair away from his forehead. 

“Punched,” Hannibal tells him. 

“Tell me where the victim’s house is,” Will says. That takes Hannibal by surprise. 

“What, my love?” Hannibal asks. 

“If you got punched and concussed I need to make sure you actually finished the job and didn’t leave evidence,” Will says. “Not that I don’t trust you. I just need to be sure.” 

“My love. My darling. My Will,” Hannibal says. He reaches out for his sweater sleeve and tugs. “Come here. Kiss me.” 

* * *

Will indulges him. Leans forward and presses a soft kiss to his lips. He’s surprised Hannibal made it home in one piece, surprised that Hannibal remembers what happened. Mostly he’s surprised that Hannibal can get injured in the first place.

It seems so below him. Hannibal never quite seems human to Will, though he knows he is. This has proved that even Hannibal is susceptible to being hurt. And that pulls on Will’s heart in a way he doesn’t want to address, but knows he has to. 

What Hannibal does is dangerous for him and tonight has made that perfectly clear. No matter how good he thinks he is at everything, there’s always a chance of Will finding him puking in the bushes from a head injury. Always a chance of something much, much worse. 

His eyes look so tired, not quite focused. Will wipes away the blood coming from Hannibal’s nose. He needs to go to the victim’s house and make sure there’s nothing on the man’s hands. 

“Alright, baby,” Will says. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Bed. Yes,” Hannibal murmurs. 

Will gets him a towel and holds it open while Hannibal gets out of the bathtub. 

“Clothes?” Will asks. 

Hannibal shakes his head and steps toward the towel so Will can wrap it around him. “No, thank you.” 

“Let me change the sheets,” Will tells him. He directs Hannibal toward one of the armchairs he brought upstairs while Hannibal was gone. Hannibal sits down in it and Will can feel Hannibal’s eyes on him while he strips the bed and puts new sheets on it. Will looks at him again. “I need the address.” 

Hannibal looks like he’s thinking hard, then says, “Business card in my wallet. Written on the back. You’re not going now, are you?”

“I am. Get in bed,” Will says. Hannibal stands up, leaving the towel on the chair and moves to the bed. “It’s fine for you to fall asleep, right?”

“Mhm,” Hannibal hums. “Research has been done on that. I will be fine.” 

“Okay. Call me if you need anything.”

“Leave your phone, darling,” Hannibal says. He lays on his stomach, bunches a pillow up in his arms as if he’s holding Will instead. Will wants to crawl into bed and replace the pillow, but forces himself to stay where he is. 

“If you need me how-”

“You in prison because your cell phone corroborates a location you were allegedly seen will be much worse than me needing you in the next hour and a half while I sleep off a very minor head injury,” Hannibal says. 

Completely aware, as if the concussion is already healing. Which can’t be right. Hannibal is just that good at getting himself under control. 

Hannibal continues speaking, his eyes now closed as he snuggles further into the pillow. He adds, “Now, if you leave your cell phone here, and make sure you do not park your car anywhere near his home, then both your phone and myself are here to say that you were also here. Phone stays.” 

“Phone stays,” Will huffs. He looks down when he sees a dart of black run across the floor. Beatrice circles the room, then jumps onto the bed and lays on top of Hannibal’s naked back. 

“Is that my sweet Beatrice?” Hannibal asks. He opens his eyes and lifts his head, turning to see the kitten. “My lovely little girl.” 

Will smiles. So fond and in love. He takes his phone and snaps a picture of the sight. He wants to see this forever. He wishes he could set it as his lock screen, but Hannibal’s ass is out and it wouldn’t be easy to explain Jack or Alana. 

One last look at Hannibal, then he can’t help himself and climbs into the bed, kisses every inch of Hannibal’s exposed shoulders, his neck, his face. Hannibal turns his head, careful not to disturb Beatrice on his back, and Will kisses his lips too. 

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Will whispers against his mouth. “Bea will keep you company. Do you want me to send a few dogs up, too?” 

“Russel and Winston,” Hannibal murmurs. As an afterthought, it seems, he says, “And all the rest.”

Will laughs quietly, shuts off the lights and puts a blanket over Hannibal’s bare legs. 

“Will, darling,” Hannibal says, reaching out for him. “There’s a plastic suit and gloves in the duffel in your trunk. Please put it on before you go into the house. It will be large on you, but it’s just a precaution.” 

“Sure, baby,” Will says. He kisses the hand holding his, then sets it back down on the bed and leaves the room. 

He goes into the bathroom and picks up Hannibal’s pants, taking his wallet and finding the business card he was talking about. 

Maps it out on his phone, writes down directions, then sets his cell phone on the kitchen counter. 

He snaps his fingers in the living room to wake up the sleeping dogs, then when a few lift their heads, he says, “Go see Hannibal.” And points to the stairs. 

Rusty gets up first and runs up the stairs, followed by Winston and Buster. The rest just drop their heads and go back to snoring. 

Will looks around for his keys, sighs, goes back up to the bathroom and takes them out of Hannibal’s pants pocket, then finally leaves. 

He parks half a mile away and walks the rest of the way. The plastic suit bundled up tightly in his pocket. He slips it on and zips it up, pulling on a pair of gloves, when he gets to the front porch. It takes Will a minute to find the body in the basement, hanging from the beams going across the ceiling. 

Certainly dead. Hannibal finished that job. He lifts the man’s right hand and there’s a slight bruising on the knuckles, but nothing too noticeable. If the man kills people, and he’s certain Hannibal made sure there would be a link to the murders somewhere, then fights are to be expected at times. 

There doesn’t appear to be any blood anywhere and he trusts that Hannibal wore his suit and gloves the entire time. 

Part of him wants to close his eyes, let the pendulum swing, see what Hannibal did. He doesn’t. He cares more about getting home to his concussed boyfriend and sleeping in his arms. 

The scene is up to his standards so Will leaves. He peels off the suit again when he gets outside. He makes the half mile walk back to his car then heads home. 

Inside the house again, the dogs all perk up to look at him then put their heads back down. He picks up his phone off the counter and checks the time. He’s exhausted, and it’s after four now. He toes off his shoes, gets a glass of water, then walks up the stairs. 

Beatrice passes him on the steps and rubs against his legs. He bends down to pick her up and carries her up to the bedroom. 

He doesn’t turn on the bedroom light and has to get by with just the hall light coming through a small crack in the door while he gets undressed. Beatrice jumps into the bed and curls up on Hannibal’s back again. Hannibal is exactly how Will left him. 

Will sets the water down on the nightstand, then gets into bed and rubs Hannibal’s back softly. 

He stirs, makes a quiet, confused noise, then lifts his head off the pillow. 

“Will,” he murmurs. “Get Beatrice off of me.”

“What? Why?” Will asks. 

“My entire back is covered in scratches,” Hannibal mumbles. Still half asleep. 

Will turns on the lamp and looks at Hannibal's back. Sure enough it’s littered in scratches. 

“She is a menace,” Hannibal says. 

“She’s otherwise been so sweet,” Will says. 

“Only when you are here, it seems. Come, lay down with me,” Hannibal says. 

“Here, drink this.” Will holds out the cup of water and Hannibal rolls over to sit up, taking the glass from Will’s hand. “How’s your head?”

“Hurts,” Hannibal says into the glass. 

“I’ve had a few concussions,” Will tells him. “They’re not fun.”

“No, and pardon my French, but I feel like shit,” Hannibal says. 

Will can’t help but laugh. “Do you need anything?”

“Turn off the lamp and lay down with me. Please,” Hannibal says. 

So Will does as he’s asked and Hannibal curls around Will’s body, head on Will’s chest. 

“I’m tired,” Hannibal says. 

“I know, go to sleep. We can talk in the morning,” Will whispers. “Do you want a Tylenol?”

“No. Stay here,” Hannibal says. 

Will falls asleep after Hannibal does. The sun had already been coming through the curtains, but he knows their day is going to be spent in bed or on the couch, anyway, so he doesn’t care much. 

He wakes up gasping for air because he has a nightmare of that man’s body swinging in the basement. In the dream Hannibal stands there, but instead of just hanging the man and leaving, he’s cutting open his body, a line from sternum to pelvis. Letting his organs fall into a pile on the floor. 

Awake, though, Hannibal is holding him tight, whispering that it’s okay. 

After a second to catch his breath, Will nods. “I’m okay. I’m okay.” 

Hannibal starts kissing him all over. Chest, neck, face, the top of his head. Will laughs and pushes him away. 

“Stop it,” Will laughs again, but Hannibal just kisses his cheek again. 

Will kisses Hannibal’s lips then, earning a satisfied smile from Hannibal. Will asks, “How’s your head?” 

“I will recover just fine, darling. A minor setback,” Hannibal answers. 

“Do you want to eat? I’ll cook,” Will offers. 

Hannibal’s face scrunches up and he shakes his head. 

“My cooking isn’t that bad,” Will says. 

“I do not feel like eating at the moment,” Hannibal tells him. “Can we lay on the couch?” 

Will nods. “Get dressed, though.”

Hannibal looks around the room, then says, “Did you bring the dressers up?”

“I had time while you were gone last night,” Will shrugs. He gets up and walks toward the closet where he hung Hannibal’s suits. “Suit?” 

“Sweater,” Hannibal answers. Will moves from the closet to the drawers instead as Hannibal says, “I do need to go out today if I may borrow your car.” 

“I would prefer going with and driving,” Will says. He pulls a sweater, pants and underwear out of Hannibal's drawer and tosses them to him before opening his own drawers and pulling out a hoodie and jeans. 

Hannibal frowns and stands up to get dressed. “I need to purchase your Christmas gifts.”

“Hannibal,” Will says. He walks over, puts his hands on Hannibal’s hips. “Don’t get me anything. Take care of yourself today.”

“But-”

Will shuts him up with a kiss. “Your present to me can be laying on the couch with me all day. That is what I want. And if you still insist on buying me things, you can go another time.”

“Christmas won’t be particularly special, then,” Hannibal murmurs. 

Will shrugs. “We’ll be together. Abigail will be here. It’ll be nice.” 

They move downstairs, Will cooks himself something for lunch while Hannibal lays on the couch. Will eats in the kitchen, knowing Hannibal’s appetite is next to none, and he’s likely nauseous. 

When Will finishes eating, he goes into the living room and Hannibal is sleeping on his back on the couch. Will carefully settles down on top of him like he’s done so often. Hannibal’s arms wrap around his back, then he’s asleep again, breathing even under Will’s ear. 

Hannibal’s phone starts ringing on the coffee table and Will opens his eyes. He lifts his head to see who’s calling just as Hannibal asks, his accent thick. Sleepy. 

“Alana,” Will answers. 

“I suppose I should not ignore her,” Hannibal sighs. He picks up his phone and answers with, “Hello?”

There's a pause where Will can hear her voice, but can’t understand her words. 

“I’m afraid I am out with Will buying a gift for Abigail at the moment,” Hannibal says. “The three of us were going to spend Christmas together as none of us have family to spend it with. I suppose we can be at my house by dinner time if you would like to come over then. Seven o’clock?”

Pause. 

Hannibal says, “Excellent. We shall see you then.” 

When Hannibal hangs up and sets his phone down on the coffee table again, he says, “Alana wants to see how Abigail is adjusting.”

Will starts talking without lifting his head from Hannibal’s chest. 

“We are both supposedly seeing people,” Will says. “Who are not supposed to be each other. And yet we are spending Christmas together.”

“Yes,” Hannibal agrees. “Though I suppose we can both just say we are no longer seeing our partners or that our relationships are too casual for spending Christmas together, yes?” 

“I guess,” Will sighs. “I just think that you were really close to fucking this up with that phone call.”

“She doesn’t suspect and she won’t. I do believe she is unaware you’re seeing someone,” Hannibal says. “Unless Jack told her, of course.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“No, then I can just tell her the person I am seeing went to visit family for the holiday, so that I am spending it with you and Abigail,” Hannibal says. He rubs a hand over Will’s head. “I do miss your curls.”

“I know you do,” Will sighs. “This means we have to actually go get Abigail a gift and go have dinner at your house, doesn’t it?” 

“Yes, love. We do have a few hours, though. I was thinking about buying her a laptop and a new cell phone,” Hannibal says. 

“She has a cell phone,” Will mumbles. 

“Yes, but she is a teenager and I am sure she would not deny a new one.”

“She needs a car more.”

“That will come after Christmas, as I said,” Hannibal says. 

“Well,” Will sighs. “Let’s go now then. You should eat something before we go.” 

Will gets up and offers a hand to Hannibal, pulling him off the couch. Hannibal picks up an apple out of the bowl on the counter and eats it. _Better than nothing,_ Will tells himself. 

They both pull on jackets and get in the car. They stop at the nearest Best Buy and buy both items for Abigail. Hannibal pays for both even though Will offers to split the cost. Hannibal always refuses such things. 

On the way to Baltimore Hannibal makes a small whining sound from the passenger seat, then rubs his temples. 

“Tylenol in the glove box,” Will murmurs. 

Hannibal opens it, takes out the bottle then shakes pills into his hand. Will hands him the half empty, nearly frozen, bottle of water sitting in his cup holder and can see Hannibal frown out of the corner of his eye. Still he takes the pills with the water, then rests his head against the window. 

After a few more minutes, Hannibal sits up and is reaching a hand towards Will, and Will takes one of his off the wheel so they can intertwine their fingers together. Will rests both of their hands on his knee. 

“How are you feeling?” Will asks. 

“Not particularly well,” Hannibal answers. Will can tell in the way Hannibal is actually letting it be known in how he shifts in his seat and makes noises of discomfort. 

“We’ll be at your house soon,” Will tells him. “It’s still early. You can take a nap when we get there.”

“Only if you take one with me,” Hannibal says.

“Mhm,” Will hums. “You have wrapping paper, right?” 

“In the study.”

“I’ll wrap Abigail’s presents and then go up to lay down with you,” Will says. 

“Make sure she does not see them.”

Will smiles and squeezes Hannibal’s hand. 

The rest of the drive is spent in silence. Will glances over a few times to see Hannibal’s eyes closed. Will pulls into Hannibal’s garage, into the spot designated just for him, and brings Hannibal knuckles to his lips after he shuts the car off. 

Hannibal stirs, having actually fallen asleep, and looks at Will with a tired, lazy smile. 

Will sends Hannibal straight up the stairs to lay down when they get inside and takes Abigail’s gifts to the study to wrap. Abigail comes downstairs and Will finds her looking through the fridge when he emerges from the study. 

“What’s wrong with Hannibal?” Abigail asks. 

“Concussion. Alana’s coming over for dinner,” Will says, changing the subject quickly. 

“How did he get a concussion?” 

“Slipped getting out of the bath and hit his head,” Will lies. “He’ll be fine. Are you hungry?”

Abigail shrugs. “He doesn’t have much in terms of snacks.”

Will takes out his wallet and hands her a twenty dollar bill. Then, on second thought, he hands her another. “Go find a grocery store and buy as many snacks as you can with that.”

“I still have money left over from yesterday,” Abigail says. 

“Then buy even more snacks.”

* * *

If Hannibal’s being entirely honest, he’s fine. But the concern in Will’s eyes, his gentle touches, and how he’s taking care of Hannibal… Hannibal has decided to play it up just a bit. 

The nausea is real. The persistent headache is real. The exhaustion is real. It’s nothing he cannot usually ignore. He’s choosing not to ignore. 

Hannibal goes up to his bedroom at Will’s gentle prodding toward the stairs. He passes Abigail on the way, mumbles a “Good afternoon,” and keeps walking to his own room. 

He shuts the door, pulls the blinds shut tight, keeps all the lights off, and climbs into bed in just his underwear. 

When the door opens, light floods into the room from the hall, but it’s quickly shut again. Hannibal keeps his head buried in the pillow, but he can hear Will’s belt buckle while he undoes it, and he hears Will’s jeans and belt hit the ground. 

Will gets into the bed next to Hannibal and Hannibal reaches out an arm to pull him in close. He's met with the fabric of Will’s hoodie. 

“Take this off,” Hannibal murmurs, turning to look at him and tugging at the sweatshirt. Will sits up and removes his sweatshirt before laying down next to Hannibal again. 

Will pushes Hannibal’s hair away from his face and kisses his temple. 

“I sent Abigail to the grocery store to get snacks,” Will tells him. “And I told her you hit your head getting out of the bath last night.”

Hannibal hums in response and pulls Will closer to him. “Wake me at six please.” 

“Can I help with dinner?” Will asks. 

“If you’d like,” Hannibal answers. 

Hannibal drifts off after that, letting himself sleep now that Will is pressed close to him. He wakes a few times to Will stroking his hair and kissing his forehead. He can’t help but smile each time. 

“Hannibal.”

He stirs at the sound of his name, a hand on his shoulder shaking him awake. 

“It’s six, baby,” Will whispers. He’s sitting up, looking down at Hannibal, a fond smile on his face. 

“So soon?” Hannibal asks, trying to put more exhaustion into his voice than there really is. 

“I know. We’ll make dinner, then send Alana home right after she’s done eating, okay?” Will says. “Then you can come back to bed.”

“Your dogs,” Hannibal whispers. 

“I was going to go home tonight,” Will says. That causes Hannibal to frown. 

“Then I shall go with you.”

“If you want. I was just going to come back in the morning,” Will shrugs. 

“I’ll go home with you.” 

“Alright, get up and get dressed, then. Alana will be here at seven,” Will says. He kisses Hannibal once then rolls out of the bed. 

“Put on something nice, darling,” Hannibal says. He goes to his closet to put on a suit. Something less casual, that doesn’t suggest he spent the day lounging in bed or on the couch with his boyfriend. He hands Will a blue button down shirt and a pair of slacks. 

When Hannibal holds out a pair of the silk underwear he bought Will, Will gives him a glare and shakes his head. He puts on the other clothes given to him, though.

They make it downstairs and a few minutes later, Abigail emerges from the living room and sits down in the chair in the corner of the kitchen. 

“Doctor Bloom still doesn’t know about you two, right?” she asks. 

“Correct,” Hannibal says. 

He has Will peeling potatoes while he starts cooking the meat. 

“So if you’re ever not home and she asks, what am I supposed to say?” Abigail asks. 

Hannibal frowns slightly, trying to think of a good excuse as to why he doesn’t sleep at home most nights and is going to be leaving Abigail often. 

“Tell her he has a girlfriend,” Will supplies. “She already thinks he does.”

“Alana would find it irresponsible for me to leave Abigail here several nights a week to spend time with a girlfriend,” Hannibal sighs.

“Well, it’s not far off from the truth, so maybe you _are_ irresponsible?” Will teases. “I can spend more time here, I guess.”

“No, I’m fine here by myself,” Abigail assures them both. “I’m sure Doctor Bloom won’t even ask. I was just wondering in case she does.”

“Go with the girlfriend thing,” Will says. “Keep it clear that Hannibal isn’t available.” 

Hannibal is met with a pointed glance and he tilts his head before saying, “Love, you know she has moved on already. To you, I reckon.”

“She hasn’t. She’s just naturally flirty,” Will mumbles. “It doesn’t mean anything when she does it to me.”

“If you insist,” Hannibal murmurs. 

He squints at the lights and rubs at his temples again, wanting Will to be doting once more. 

As expected, Will leaves the kitchen and runs up the stairs. He comes back not a minute later with a bottle of Tylenol from Hannibal’s medicine cabinet. 

Will kisses Hannibal’s cheek as he places the bottle in his hands, then moves to get Hannibal a bottle of water from the fridge. 

“I think we’ll be having a quiet couple of days,” Will whispers to him. “Are you going to be okay for your New Year’s party?”

Hannibal nods. He’s not cancelling a party for something as minor as a concussion. He’s not going to tell a soul about it other than Will, and Abigail. 

* * *

Will can tell Hannibal is playing up his symptoms a bit. Of course he can. It doesn’t take an empath to see how much Hannibal enjoys being taken care of. Will just wants to please him, and make him feel loved. If Will can’t bring himself to say he loves Hannibal, he’s sure as shit going to _show_ him instead. 

He can tell especially when Alana arrives and Hannibal is completely normal. Not wincing or squinting from the lights. Not shying away from her talking loudly. Will just smirks to himself. Files the thought away to tell Hannibal he’s full of shit when they get home. 

_Home_. Because Will feels like Hannibal’s house is just a place for Hannibal to host friends and sleep twice a week. Home is in Wolf Trap with Will and the dogs, and now Beatrice as well. For both of them, not just for Will. 

He knows Hannibal feels similarly. The way most of his clothes have made their way to Will’s house, the way he looks almost more comfortable in Will’s kitchen that he does now in his own. He can be more himself at Will’s house and Will can see that clearly. 

Alana rubs a hand over his buzzed head again. It seems that’s going to become a routine every time she sees him. 

“Darling, would you mind setting the table?” Hannibal asks, barely looking up from his meal prep. Will can hear the edge in his tone, suggesting that he’s pissed off about Alana having her hands on him. 

Will freezes at the term of endearment and looks at him, then glances at Alana out of the corner of his eye.

“Who?” Alana asks. Will groans internally. He was hoping she hadn’t heard Hannibal’s slip up. 

“Pardon?” Hannibal asks, looking up from his knife and cutting board. 

“You said ‘darling,’” Alana says. 

Hannibal hums in confusion, just barely flashes a glance at Will, then says, “No, I don’t believe I did.”

“You did,” Alana says. 

“I didn’t hear it,” Abigail says with a shrug. 

Will does not want to do this to Alana, knowing what it’s like to think you’re hearing things, but then he says, “Neither did I.” 

“Really?” Alana asks in disbelief. “Oh, I… okay.” 

As if he didn’t say it before, as if it is a fresh thought in his mind, Hannibal says, “Oh! Abigail and Alana, would you mind setting the table?”

Alana looks completely puzzled, but doesn’t say anything other than, “Yes, of course.”

Hannibal hands her a stack of plates, and Abigail the utensils and cups. As soon as Alana is out of the kitchen, Hannibal throws Will an apologetic look from across the room. Will throws him a look back that he hopes says ‘ _We’ll talk about it later,’_ and Hannibal just nods once and finishes with the food. 

“So,” Alana says when Hannibal and Will finally sit down at the table. Will next to Alana, across from Hannibal, who sits next to Abigail. “How is everything, Abigail?” 

“Good. I have a nice room and Hannibal and Will said they’ll get me a car,” Abigail shrugs. 

“Good, good,” Alana smiles. She turns to Will. “Your car wasn’t outside.”

“Uh,” Will starts. He glances at Hannibal across the table, looking for help. 

“I picked Will up this morning before we went shopping, and we came straight here after,” Hannibal explains. “I’m bringing him home after dinner.”

“Oh, well I could drive you home, Will. I’m already going in that direction. It’s not a problem, really,” Alana says. 

Will tries not to frown, and Hannibal gives him the slightest nod, so he says, “Okay, sure. Thanks.” 

He gives Hannibal a pleading look, asking _why_ he would encourage him to say yes to Alana’s offer. Hannibal shrugs, a barely there movement of his shoulders. 

Alana just keeps talking to Abigail while they all eat. When they finish, Hannibal picks up all their plates. 

“Will, would you help me with dessert?”

“Yeah,” Will says, trying not to jump up too eagerly. He walks right into the kitchen, not waiting to see if Hannibal is following yet. 

Hannibal sets the plates in the sink then goes to the freezer to pull out ice cream. Will gets bowls down from the cupboard and finds a scoop for Hannibal. 

“What the fuck, Hannibal?” Will asks, voice barely above a whisper while they stand next to each other. Hannibal scoops ice cream into their bowls while Will holds the bowls for him. 

“She will take you home and not suspect a thing. I’ll drive your car home to you after waiting twenty minutes after your departure,” Hannibal whispers back. 

He moves to the fridge and opens it, standing there a moment before deciding on what he wants. He brings back a bowl of berries and starts dropping them into the ice cream bowls. 

“I don’t want you driving,” Will says. 

“Love, she heard me slip up and call you ‘darling,’ and then we lied to her about it. She does not need any more reason to believe we’re together,” Hannibal whispers. He turns, looking to the dining room entrance then kisses Will’s jaw. “You parking in my garage does not help.”

Will huffs out a breath of air, annoyed, but doesn’t say anything. He takes his keys out of his pocket, takes his house key off the key ring, then hands the car keys to Hannibal. He carries two bowls into the dining room, leaving the other two for Hannibal to bring in. 

When dessert is finished, Will and Alana leave. Will gets into the passenger seat of Alana’s car and a thought occurs to him. He immediately texts Hannibal before they’re even out of the driveway. 

_what happens when she sees my car isnt in front of my house where it always is?_

He sees the typing bubbles right away and can picture Hannibal in a panic. Not that Hannibal ever panics. 

_Buy some time. I will leave as soon as you’re off my street._

“Shit,” Will mutters. Alana turns and looks at him while she drives. “Sorry. Would you mind stopping at a Petsmart? I just remembered I need cat food.”

“You don’t have a cat,” Alana says. 

“I kind of just got one,” Will tells her. “The vet I take the dogs to had a litter of kittens dropped off and I took one home. They only gave me enough for two days, then I did some running around today with Doctor Lecter for Abigail’s gift, and then dinner… I completely forgot I’m out.” 

“Yeah, no problem. Can I meet the kitten?” Alana asks. 

“Uh yeah, sure,” Will says. 

He sends another text to Hannibal. 

_stopping at petsmart. said i need food for bea. now alana wants to meet her. do you have your key for my house? hide in the bedroom when you get there_

Hannibal doesn’t text back, so Will just hopes for the best and that he’s already on the road. He supposes the spare is still where it normally is, but since he took his own to let himself in, he hopes Hannibal either has his own or remembers where the spare is. 

Buying cat food earns them about twenty extra minutes, and when they’re nearly to his house, he gets a text back from Hannibal. 

_Home. Hiding in the bedroom, just as you asked. See you soon, my love._

Will lets out a sigh of relief. 

Alana pulls up in front of Will’s house and kills the engine of her car. They both walk up the porch next to each other and Alana scrunches up her nose. 

“Did someone throw up out here?” She asks. 

“Winston,” Will lies. “He ate something bad last night. He was feeling better this morning.”

“Well, that’s good.” 

The dogs come rushing out of the house as soon as Will unlocks and opens the door. Hannibal didn’t turn on any of the lights and he didn’t leave his coat or shoes by the door. 

“She might be upstairs. I’ll bring her down,” Will says. “Did you want a drink? Coffee? Water?”

“Oh no, I’m okay. Unless you have a beer?”

 _Shouldn’t have asked,_ Will tells himself. 

“No, sorry,” Will says, shaking his head. “You can sit on the couch. I’ll be right back.”

Will runs up the stairs, running into Beatrice in the upstairs hallway. He scoops her up so she doesn’t run down yet, giving him some time to stop in the bedroom. Hannibal is laying on his back, tapping on his tablet

“She asked me for a beer,” Will whispers to Hannibal. “I said I don’t have any even though there’s a whole case in the fridge and another next to it. I’m hoping she doesn’t wander into the kitchen.”

Hannibal doesn’t say anything, just reaches for Will to come closer. He shifts Beatrice to rest in the crook of his elbow, then gives Hannibal’s hand a squeeze with his free hand. Hannibal tilts his face up and parts his lips and Will leans down to kiss him once. 

“I’ll let her meet Bea, then I’ll send her home and come back up, okay?” Will says. 

Hannibal nods and lets go of Will’s hand. 

“If I’m not up here in twenty, call my landline pretending there’s an emergency,” Will says. 

Hannibal gives him a smile and says, “Of course.” 

Thankfully, it doesn’t come to that. 

Alana sits on the floor with Beatrice, cooing and telling Will how cute she is while he stands off to the side. After ten minutes, Will starts yawning, then fakes a headache by very obviously and loudly shaking two aspirin out of a bottle and downing them. 

“I should let you get some rest,” Alana says. “Everything’s okay with you, though?”

Will nods. “Headaches come and go, but I do have another scan on the sixth, so we’ll see how I’m doing then.”

He goes to the door and lets the dogs inside, and holds it open for Alana to leave through. Beatrice attempts to run out but Will leans down and grabs her before she can. Alana lingers in the doorway and Will pretends to be unaware of her looking at his lips. 

“Have a good night, Alana,” Will says. “And thanks for the ride home.”

“Any time, Will,” she says. With one last look at his mouth, she turns and goes down the porch steps. He shuts the door and lets out a shaky laugh before going to feed the dogs. 

When he finally gets upstairs, Hannibal is asleep, his tablet open to Candy Crush on his stomach. Will picks it up, locks it, then plugs it in across the room, setting it on the chair he brought up. He undresses down to nothing and gets into bed next to Hannibal. 

Will kisses Hannibal’s cheek, his forehead, the corner of his mouth. Repeats that pattern until Hannibal wakes up and smiles at him. Hannibal reaches a hand out to cup Will’s cheek and Will leans in to kiss his lips properly. 

“Take off your suit,” Will tells him. 

Hannibal nods and gets out of bed. He undresses and gets under the covers next to Will. Will wanted to talk about the ‘darling’ mishap, and the fact that Hannibal is full of shit, but Hannibal’s eyes are barely open. Will just kisses him and curls up next to him. They both fall asleep like that. 

Christmas Eve is nothing special. Abigail comes over, Hannibal cooks dinner. They sit and watch TV until Hannibal starts falling asleep on Will’s shoulder. 

“Go up to bed, baby,” Will whispers. 

“I’m okay here,” Hannibal mumbles. “Go out to my car and bring Abigail’s gifts inside. In the trunk.”

“When did you put them there?” Will asks, already standing up. Abigail holds Hannibal’s car keys out for him. 

“Last night before I left home,” Hannibal answers. 

Will does as he’s asked and by then, Hannibal is out like a light. Will sets the gifts on the kitchen table, then goes back into the living room. 

“We’re going up to bed,” Will tells Abigail. “You can take the couch or the bed over there. Your choice. There are more blankets in the closet by the stairs if you need them.”

Abigail gives him a thumbs up, then laughs when Will tries to wake up Hannibal. 

“Come on. I can’t carry you,” Will tells him. 

Hannibal sighs and gets up from the couch, stumbling tiredly towards the stairs. Will gets him a glass of water from the kitchen before following him. Winston and Rusty come along with them, but the rest of the dogs and Beatrice stay downstairs with Abigail. 

They both lay down in bed, door closed, in sweaters and pajama pants. Hannibal lays behind Will, chest pressed to Will’s back, and arm slung over his waist. 

“You’re full of shit, you know,” Will finally says. 

“Sorry?” Hannibal asks, pretending to have no idea what Will’s talking about. 

“I know you just like me taking care of you,” Will whispers. “Your concussion isn’t that bad, you just like when I’m like this.”

“Mm,” Hannibal hums. “Go to sleep.”

Will just laughs. 

They don’t spend Christmas day getting drunk like they had originally planned, but it’s still nice nonetheless. 

Abigail is happy with her gifts, and Hannibal keeps complaining that he wished he had gotten something for Will. Will just rubs the back of Hannibal’s hand with his thumb and kisses his cheek. 

After Abigail’s presents are opened, and after breakfast, Abigail decides to go home to Hannibal’s house, leaving Hannibal and Will alone for the rest of the day. They rest on the couch and watch movies together. Hannibal makes them lunch, then dinner. 

Hannibal makes a few calls after dinner, in the other room so Will can’t hear him, then announces that he’ll be going out. 

“No,” Will says firmly. “You’re not.”

“I must,” Hannibal counters. “I’ll leave after you go to bed and be home before you wake up.”

“No,” Will says again. 

Hannibal just shrugs and lays back down on the couch, opening his arms for Will to lay on top of him. Will goes to him, thinking he’s won this argument. They don’t discuss it again, and get into bed together that night. 

Will _really_ thinks he won the argument when Hannibal initiates sex and asks Will to fuck him. He thinks it even more when Hannibal doesn’t even bother with any cleanup, after they’ve both finished, before he’s falling asleep with his head against Will’s chest. 

Sure enough, he wakes from a nightmare in the middle of the night to an empty bed. He decides he’s going to kill Hannibal for leaving him. He didn’t win the argument at all. He feels entirely played. 

Will stays awake until Hannibal comes back, but pretends he’s sleeping when Hannibal walks into the bedroom again. Hannibal removes all of his clothes and gets into bed beside Will and that’s when Will gets angry. 

“You absolute asshole,” Will nearly yells. “I told you no! And then you lead me to believe you were staying tonight before just leaving.”

“Darling, I never said I wouldn’t leave,” Hannibal reminds him. “It’s not my fault you believed I would stay.”

“So what? You _didn’t_ just ask me to fuck you so I’d be in a good mood?”

“We had sex because we both wanted to and were in the mood for it,” Hannibal shrugs. “If it put you in a good enough mood to excuse me leaving tonight then that is just an added bonus.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Will mutters. 

“Of course, darling. Make sure you wear one of my plastic suits, of course. Wouldn’t want you to leave any evidence or get messy,” Hannibal says. 

“Fuck you,” Will says, but he doesn’t really mean it. Hannibal looks at him with those big brown eyes and his messy hair and Will decides to just kiss him instead of being mad. 

Hannibal kisses him back just for a second, then lays down, pulling Will to lay half on top of him. 

In the morning, Jack calls. 

“It’s after Christmas,” Jack says when Will answers. “And we have a case.”

“Yeah, text me the location,” Will mutters. “Did you call Doctor Lecter? He’s babysitting me, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll call him.”

Jack hangs up. Will glares at Hannibal. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave comments. Let me know what you think! I’m really behind on replying to everyone’s comments on the last chapter. Mental health has been 👎🏻 lately and I haven’t been feeling up to it. That said, I appreciate each and every comment you all leave and hope to see a few for this chapter. If you have any predictions feel free to share :)


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